Maybe Someday
by rippingbutterflywings
Summary: After a small misunderstanding leads to Clary and Jace striking up a conversation, the two of them develop a deep friendship, one with the potential of becoming much more. But, when they're separated, could there be a chance for the two of them to reunite? And, even if they do, will their relationship ever be the same? AU/AH/OOC.
1. Young Blood

_Hellooo, guys! So...this is my new story. It's one of the two that I've been working on as Coming Home comes to a close, and I was a little hesitant to post it, but my wonderful beta, IWriteNaked, pumped me up and got me to upload it. Thanks, Ashtray! Also, thanks to DeathCabForMari and spikeyhairgood. You three are awesome, supportive, and wonderful, and I'm hella glad that you're my friends. :) _

_I don't have an update schedule set for this one yet, but I'm gonna try to update once a week, either Saturdays, Sundays, or Mondays. I'm gonna be pretty busy over the next few months, but I'd like to think that I'm pretty good at updating, so yeah. Anyway, that's what's up with that. _

_I hope you enjoy this chapter! _

**_I don't own The Mortal Instruments._**

* * *

_We're only young and naive still  
__We require certain skills  
__The mood it changes like the wind  
__Hard to control when it begins_

"Young Blood" - The Naked and Famous

* * *

When you're thirteen years old, you can be a lot of people.

You can be the girl who raises her hand to answer _every single question _in class. You could be the girl who desperately tries to be friends with every kind of person out there—and fails. You can be the the girl who is _fucking obsessed _with horses. You can be the girl who is obsessed with _High School Musical_, or the girl who pretends to hate all Disney movies/shows but secretly binges them at home. You could be the girl with a hard home life. The girl who is too perky.

Or the girl who's known for being tragically antisocial.

At thirteen years old, I'm the emo girl. Which is pretty ridiculous, considering people base that observation off of the fact that I like to wear black and my bangs are parted a certain way (to the right; I do need to get a haircut, because they almost cover my eyes). They think that the fact that I wear jackets all the time means that I cut myself.

Ridiculous.

I mean, really, I'm just like every other pre-teen there is. A few months ago, I was on my period, and my pants got _really_ stained, and my Biology teacher found out, and it was the worst disaster in the world. When he asked me if it was the first time that this had happened to me, I thought that he meant the _big ass stain_, not my period. So, of course, I had to stand outside with him, a jacket covering the dried blood on my black pants, as he told me about periods. Lovely. Really lovely.

Anyway, it's April, and it's pretty cold outside. Simon and I walk home together, because his mom always gets home super late, and we have a group project due soon, so he's gonna stay at my apartment tonight. My mom always insists that I walk home with someone else beside me, so here we are, all but holding hands.

We make our way up the narrow stairs in my building, going up two sets of stairs before finally reaching my door. 2B. I take out my keys and unlock the door, twisting the handle and motioning for Simon to get inside.

My mom works at a gallery here in Brooklyn, but she usually doesn't get home until seven, so I lock the door again and make my way into the kitchen, examining the fridge.

"What's there to eat?" Simon asks, setting his stuff down on the couch.

"Um, leftover lasagna," I announce, taking out the Tupperware container.

"Perfecto," he says with a toothy smile. "Hey, have you talked to Isabelle about the project?"

"Yep. She said we have a fourth partner called Jonathan, and she wants _me _to find him on Facebook."

"Is she still refusing to go on Facebook after Raphael Santiago called her a slut?"

"Who said middle school wouldn't be interesting, right?"

He laughs and takes out two plastic plates. He hands one to me, and I place a square of lasagna on it. "Seriously, though, Raphael is such an asshole."

"He _is_." I shake my head and place another square of lasagna on the second plate. I put them both in the microwave and give them a minute and a half. "Do you want something to drink?"

"You don't happen to have any soda, do you?"

"If only," I say. "We have iced tea."

"That's good enough."

After I pour us both our iced teas, I let out a sigh. "I just feel bad that she has to deal with his crap just because she turned him down once."

"Yeah, well, he sucks. People know better than to listen to him, though. I mean, she's still super popular. She's _Isabelle_." I notice that he says it with a hint of awe, as if he were speaking about a celebrity rather than our life-long friend.

"She doesn't care about that." The microwave beeps, and I take out our hot plates. Steam rises up from the food. "She cares about the fact that Raphael Santiago is an asshole."

"Well, there's not much we can do about that." He bites his lip. "I wish there were, you know?"

"Sure," I say lightly, looking down at my food. "But she'll be fine, right?"

He's too busy chewing his food to speak, but he gives me a nod and an enthusiastic thumbs-up. I swear to God. I shake my head and get down to eating; after the first delicious bite, I realize that I've been starving the entire time.

We throw away the plastic plates and take our iced teas and bags into my (slightly small) bedroom. My full-sized bed, bookshelf, desk, and dresser barely fit in there, but I make it work. I open up the curtains to reveal that it's begun raining. Thank _God_.

"When's your brother getting here?" Simon asks, settling down on my bed.

"After soccer practice is over, I guess."

"They still have two more games, right?"

I nod and open my laptop, bringing it with me to my bed. "Okay, I'm gonna add this Jonathan dude. Did she give a last name?"

"Nope. But just add the school's name in the filter, and add the one you recognize, I guess."

I do as he says, hoping that his name shows up. There are twenty—_twenty_—Jonathans in our school. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I scroll down until I find three possible candidates, and I add all of them.

"You added _three of them_?" Simon asks, incredulous. He already has his phone out and is probably texting Isabelle about this.

I shrug. "I panicked, okay?"

A few moments pass by, and I check my Facebook obsessively, refreshing it until I'm a second away from going insane. I fall back, exhausted. My pillows are very inviting right now. Maybe I don't have to work. Maybe I could nap.

"One of them answered," Simon announces, and I sit up quickly. Who needs napping, anyway?

And there, in my notifications, it says: You are now friends with **Jonathan Wayland. **

"Well, that's one, I guess," Simon mutters.

He doesn't have a profile picture, but I click his name on the chat. A new chat with the two of us opens up, and I bite my lip. "What do I even say, anyway?"

"That you wanna know if he's the guy from your English class? With the project?"

I sigh. "Fine." I bite my lip, but decide to go ahead and do it anyway.

**Clary Fray**

_Hey, is this the same Jonathan from my English class with Mr. Stark? _

**Jonathan Wayland **

_Sorry, but this isn't him. Someone changed my Facebook name to Jonathan instead of Jace, but, anyway, I'm in high school._

**Clary Fray **

_Thanks anyway! _

**Jonathan Wayland **

_Sure. _

I let out a sigh, looking up at Simon. "It's not him."

"We'll find him," he replies, opening up his flip phone again.

"Honestly, Si, what's up with you?"

He shrugs. "Just Izzy. We've been texting more, and I think that I really like her."

"You _like _like her?"

"Yeah." He's smiling widely; I'm not sure he's even aware of it. He's radiating happiness, which is kind of...exciting. It's good to see him this happy.

"Good. You two are adorable together."

"We're not—"

"Not yet," I interrupt him.

Just then, another Jonathan adds me. Why is that name so popular, anyway? Even my brother's name is Jonathan. It sucks. Honestly.

"Are you sure that we're paired up with a Jonathan?" I ask him, biting my lip. The third one denied being in my class, and I don't wanna add more to my Facebook.

"Let me call Isabelle," Simon says.

"Yes, I'm sure it's a real burden."

He rolls his eyes, but his expression changes when she picks up. "Hey, are you sure we're paired up with a Jonathan? We can't find one." There's a pause. "Sure, okay. I didn't know those were up." Another pause. "You could've told us and we wouldn't have had to call you." Aaaand another pause. "Sure. Okay, so what's that? Sebastian Verlac?" He nods at me, and I write it down. "It's fine. Yeah. Sure. Bye."

"She mixed it up?"

He nods. "Said she was sorry."

I glare at the newly-friended Jonathans and look for Sebastian Verlac, who's fairly easy to find. I send him a message, and we agree to meet tomorrow after school at Isabelle's place. Awesome. Stupid English project.

"What other homework do we have?"

"Math," Simon replies, and I groan. We always, _always _have math homework. Always. I hate my teacher.

"Can I just not do it?"

"Jocelyn would murder me if she knew," he replies, handing me my math notebook and dropping the math textbook on the bed without giving it a thought.

"You're just happy about this because you actually like math," I mutter, opening my notebook and writing down the date. _I hate school, I hate school, I hate_—

"Clary," Simon says, exasperation laced with his usual excited tone, "it's just math. It can actually be fun."

"You," I say to him, "are such a dork. Math is not, in any shape or form, _fun_." I wrinkle my nose in disgust, but begin writing the first problem anyway.

We spend an hour doing thirty-something problems, sitting side by side in my bed. I always enjoy doing math with Simon; there's something comforting about the peace he finds in it, and I always hope that it rubs off on me. I'm not sure I want to love _math_, per se, but I want to find that kind of enthusiasm on something that can help me motivate myself for school. Something other than art, that is.

I sigh, exhausted. I finish the last problem ten minutes after Simon has finished all of them, and I fall back, the pillows making my back feel so comfortable that I almost sigh out of relief. "Are we watching anything?"

"Like…?" Just as I'm about to answer with an _I don't know _and a shrug, his phone rings, beating me to the punch. He holds up a finger. "Hey, Mom." There is a pause, and then: "Yeah, yeah, I'll be down in a second. Okay." He stuffs his phone into his pocket and gives me an apologetic look. "Mom's already here."

The sun has already set, and the stars are just starting to shine, but I put on my shoes and say, "I'll walk you out."

We say our goodbyes by the door, the unusually chilly air making me want to go back upstairs faster than usual. I like the cold, but it's _April_. Upstairs, I turn on the lights in my room and browse through Netflix on my crappy computer, hoping that there'll be _something _I'll want to watch.

Just as I'm about to give up, my brother calls out, "I'm home!" and I make my way out, but not early enough to hear him say that he's got company. In my very living room stands a tall, golden-haired boy. He's gorgeous.

He's also the Jonathan I messaged.

Oh dear God.

"Hey," I say, waving awkwardly. Leave it to me to do this. I want to punch myself in the face. I turn to my brother, who's regarding me with a half-amused, half-bored expression. We fight a lot, but, right now, I just want to smack him in the face for not telling me that he was having people over. "Are we ordering pizza?"

Jon nods. "Mom said she's gonna be a little late, but she still hopes to make it here in time. Ish?" He shakes his head. "You know Mom."

Do I ever. She gets caught up talking to people about the things she loves, which is actually kind of nice. She talks with words made of fire and a passion that burns brightly inside, and I wish that I felt that way about certain things. I don't know. "I want pepperoni," I say to my brother, making my way back inside my room.

Netflix, Netflix, Netflix. This kind of seems impossible. I decide to just re-watch episodes of _Friends _until the pizza gets here. Isabelle's watching it now, so I text her, and we decide to watch it together while Skyping. Watching her reactions is hilarious, and I entertain myself for about half an hour (a whole episode later!).

"Pizza's here," I say. "Be right back."

Jon pays for the pizza. My brother is fifteen and he loves sports and fighting and being moody, and one time my mom bought him condoms and he got so red that he had to excuse himself from the dinner table and didn't come out of his room until the next morning. My mom, unlike Jon, is very open about sex and stuff like that. Thankfully, she's never tried talking to _me _about any of it, but I've heard her attempting to reason with her son about the importance of a proper sex education, and he just rolls his eyes and talks over her and locks himself in his room until she shuts up about men sticking their penises into women's vaginas.

My brother is an actual five-year-old.

Seriously. He's turning sixteen in a few weeks, and he can't even talk about sex, even though everyone in the history of ever knows that my brother is the biggest manwhore there ever was—right before Jace, of course.

Aka Jonathan.

I want to kick myself in the face for not having made the connection as soon I friended him. _Honestly. _

I take two slices of pizza and a big glass of soda with a crap ton of ice into my room, where Isabelle is waiting for me on Skype. "Next episode?" Her eyes widen when she sees my glass of soda. "_Clary_."

Isabelle is going through this "healthy" phase in which she believes that soda is toxic and going to kill me.

I shake my head at her and drink. "Let's just play another episode," I say. Once the episode starts playing, though, I start typing on our Skype chat.

**Clary Fray: **So Jace Wayland is here.  
**Isabelle Lightwood: **Noooooo.  
**Clary Fray:** Yeah! He just showed up with my brother and I don't know what he's doing here, but earlier I added him on Facebook because someoneeeee told us that our partner was called JONATHAN.  
**Isabelle Lightwood: **Oops?  
**Isabelle Lightwood:** You need to find out what he's doing there, though.  
**Isabelle Lightwood:** For science.  
**Clary Fray: **I just wanted to keep you updated. Let's go back to watching Friends and stuffing our faces, yeah?

That's what we do until it's almost nine in the afternoon and Isabelle has to have a (late) family dinner. I hang up the call and make my way out to my empty kitchen. The lights seem dimmer than usual, but I think that's just my exhaustion catching up to me. I get more soda and one more pizza.

And I don't make it one more second without bumping into Jace Wayland and spilling my soda all over his shirt.

His _very white _shirt.

I close my eyes, silently throwing every curse word at my clumsy self for two seconds before getting him a damp towel and apologizing.

"Tell Jon to help you out with the laundry and stuff," I say to him, mopping up the floor. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he says, waving me off. He looks kind of pissed, though. If it's at me, then what a _dick_. I apologized. Whatever. Eff him to hell.

I pour myself more soda and grab my pizza, entering my room once more. I shut the door, set my stuff down, and then close my eyes again. I am _such a clumsy idiot. Oh my God. _I text Isabelle everything that just happened, and I hate myself for two seconds while taking sips of soda, and then I start watching _Friends _again, mortification lingering in the back of my mind.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading. xo_


	2. Sofa Bed

_Heeey, guys! So, it's midnight and I'm dying of exhaustion, but here's the next chapter of MS, because yes. As always, thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, for working on this, because you're great and amazing and I think you can tell that I'm delirious at this point, but I love you, so thank you. Super special thanks to DeathCabForMari and LuckyAsLockhart for suggesting songs for this chapter. I'm a huge pain in the ass when it comes to that, so thanks for helping me out! Also, as always, thanks to the awesome spikeyhairgood for being an awesome friend. You guys are all amazing and wonderful. _

_Okay, so I wanna clarify a few things. First off, this story is going to take place over the span of about five years, from when Clary is 13 to when she's 18-ish. Right now, yes, she's 13 (and Jace is 14), but she's not going to be 13 for the rest of the story. Just thought I'd clear that up. I think that was only one thing, but oh well. I'm tired. I also wanna add that, because this is going to take place over such a long period of time, the way Clary views herself and the people around her is going to change as she learns new things and continues to grow up and define herself. So yes. _

_Thanks for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting! I hope you guys like this chapter!_

* * *

_If you'd only understand  
__It happens when you hold my hand  
__I get this feeling that I can't describe  
__I feel alive_

"Sofa Bed" - Ryan O'Shaughnessy

* * *

I only see Jace once in a while, because he and my brother mostly spend their time on the field. My brother says that he doesn't really know whether Jace is a good person or not, but that the coach asked him to help Jace out because he's a "promising addition" to the team. I don't know what that means, seeing as I don't give a crap about soccer, but I nod like I understand and keep going.

In a few weeks, the season is over, and my brother and I go back to barely speaking. When we do speak, it ends up with slamming doors and frustration bubbling up in my veins. The usual. When Jace was here, at least Jon didn't fight with me, didn't pick an argument over stupid things, like the fact that I apparently use "too much internet" and make his video games slow. What a cock.

Anyway, it's mid-May now, and school ends in four weeks. The early summer air is soothing; it isn't hot enough for me to die yet, but it is also not mind-numbingly cold, so this is a nice in-between. I don't see Jace around school, and I don't know _why _it bothers me that, even after two weeks have passed by, I haven't seen him or talked to him. I'm so weird. I only talked to him, like, three times, and yet the mere mention of him kind of makes my heart race and my cheeks heat up. I'm an idiot. I don't even like this part of myself, so how is someone else supposed to find me even remotely bearable when I'm like this?

I sigh. This is ridiculous.

Simon walks me home one day after school. It is uncharacteristically warm, and I'm sweating a bit by the time we get to my house. His mom picks him up at six because his sister Rebecca is home for the weekend. She goes to college in New Jersey, so he's pretty happy that she's here. I, however, am home alone on a Friday. Jon is on a date, and my mom is working late, so it's just me.

I get on the computer, as per usual. After an hour of fruitlessly browsing through Tumblr and Youtube, I crave human conversation. I mean, I _could _talk to Isabelle about whatever it is we usually talk about, but I want something else. I click his name before I even fully realize what I'm doing, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I come up with a word. Before I know what I'm doing, I send it.

**Clary Fray**

_Hey_

I am an idiot.

I roam the pantry, hoping to find something good, but all I find is stupid crap, like protein bars and Powerade and cereal. I want _food_. Damn. I don't even want pizza, which is the most ridiculous thing I've ever thought in my entire life. I want homemade food, though, which is depressing, since a) we haven't done grocery shopping since Jesus Christ was born, and b) I don't know how to cook.

I am gonna die. Here. Alone. Without a reply from Jace.

When I get back into my room, though, I see that I have a new message from Jace. I don't see what he could possibly say to my "hey" that would be so terrifying, but here I am. Hesitating. Because I, as previously stated, am an idiot.

I finally open the message, my heart racing.

**Jace Wayland**

_Hey. You're Jonathan's sister, right? _

I notice now that he changed his Facebook name back to Jace. After letting out a breath and waiting for my heart to slow down, I muster up the courage to reply.

**Clary Fray**

_Yeah. I added you on here by accident a few weeks ago, but you're pretty much the only person online that I don't know, and I'm incredibly bored. _

I want to text Isabelle to tell her about this, but I don't. I happen to know that, despite thinking that he's pretty much the hottest guy on the planet, she doesn't like him very much. She says that he's always alone, looking weird. I roll my eyes, knowing that Jace is probably perfectly normal. All the girls at school dig him, anyway. I've heard them whisper about him, thinking no one's listening. Here's the thing about most people: they don't know how to whisper.

**Jace Wayland**

_So you started talking to me because you're bored? _

**Clary Fray**

_...yeah. Pretty much. I don't have anyone else to talk to, and my family thinks that I'll get abducted or something if I go out. _

**Jace Wayland**

_I'm sure they're just trying to take care of you. You're still in middle school, right? _

**Clary Fray**

_Yeah, but don't even dare to be condescending about it. You're only a year older than me. _

**Jace Wayland**

_I wasn't gonna try to be condescending, but you're relatively young in a city full of weirdos. I think they have their reasons for wanting to keep you in. _

**Clary Fray**

_It's annoying. They won't even let me order pizza, and I'm starving. _

**Jace Wayland**

_Okay, yeah, I'd draw the line there, too. _

I smile slightly as my fingers glide across the keyboard.

**Clary Fray **

_So, because I'm locked up in an apartment building in Brooklyn, bored out of my mind, I figured we'd talk a bit. _

**Jace Wayland**

_Isn't that already happening? _

**Clary Fray**

_I meant in the getting to know each other sense. Don't be a jackass. _

**Jace Wayland**

_Hurting my feelings already? I didn't think we were there yet. _

I let out a chuckle this time, shaking my head. This is ridiculous.

**Clary Fray **

_Just speeding this process along. Anywaaay, okay, let's start with the basics, because I'm assuming that you're up for this. Okay. So. Favorite artists? Favorite TV shows? Go. _

I chew on my bottom lip as I look at my phone. I should tell Isabelle. This is the kind of thing she wants me to talk to her about. This is basically what she's been waiting for since we became friends, and yet.

I can't bring myself to talk to her about it. I can't. If I speak about this, she'll bring it up until my brain can finish the sentences she's forming. She will tell me bad things about him, things I don't wanna know. I usually take her word for it, but I don't want whatever she has to say to stop me from doing this.

**Jace Wayland**

_Alright. Favorite artists: Arctic Monkeys, All Time Low, American Authors, Bastille, Coldplay, Death Cab for Cutie, Ed Sheeran, Fall Out Boy, The Front Bottoms, Imagine Dragons, Paramore, Mumford and Sons, The Lumineers, The Neighbourhood, and a few others here and there. _

_Favorite TV shows: The Office, Parks and Rec, Friends, Breaking Bad, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dexter, Bob's Burgers, Family Guy, The Simpsons, etc. _

_What about you? _

I'm pretty surprised that he's so compliant. He must be equally bored.

**Clary Fray**

_Okay, so we have pretty similar tastes. I listen to a bunch of instrumentals, too, and individual songs, and I also like Mayday Parade and The Maine. And also One Direction. As for TV shows, I like The Office, Parks and Rec, Buffy, Friends, Bob's Burgers, The Carrie Diaries, One Tree Hill, New Girl, How I Met Your Mother, and stuff like that. _

**Jace Wayland**

_Ahh, I like How I Met Your Mother, too. I can't believe I left that out. Not bad, Fray. Except...One Direction? Really? _

**Clary Fray**

_Shut it, Wayland. I'm sure there's some crappy stuff on your end, too. Okay. Favorite movies? _

**Jace Wayland**

_Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ginger. I like Shutter Island, anything in the Marvel universe, Clue, every Tim Burton movie, and I don't know. Other ones like that, too. What about you? _

**Clary Fray**

_Your answer sucked, Wayland. Honestly. I'm totally down for every movie you listed, but I also like Scream, Scary Movie, Dead Silence, 10 Things I Hate About You, all the Harry Potter movies, High School Musical...stuff like that. _

**Jace Wayland**

…

**Jace Wayland**

_High School Musical? _

**Clary Fray **

_You're lying if you say you don't love it. _

**Jace Wayland**

_You're ridiculous. _

I laugh at our stupid conversation. I find myself wanting to talk to him for the rest of the night, but I hear the sound of keys jigging, and I know that my mother's home.

**Clary Fray**

_While I'd love to prove you wrong (but also right, because I'm ridiculous), I have to go. People have arrived! _

**Clary Fray**

_Well, just one person. But still! Success! _

**Jace Wayland**

_Have fun with the human interaction. _

**Clary Fray**

_Thanks. And thanks for letting me ask you stuff and not being weird about it. _

**Clary Fray**

_I have to go, but yeah. Byeeee. _

I close my laptop and make my way outside. My mother looks exhausted. She has her dark red hair up in a bun, but there are some renegade tendrils framing her face. She sighs, giving me a tired smile.

"Sorry that I couldn't make it home until now," she says. We both look at the clock, which indicates that it's almost ten. I'm dying of hunger.

"It's okay." I shake my head. "I'm fine."

"I brought you food." She points to the bag she's just set on the kitchen counter. "I'm gonna go to bed, so please don't be loud if you decide to Skype your friends."

"Don't worry about it." I give her a smile, trying not to look too desperate as I examine the contents of the takeout boxes.

I hear the closing of her bedroom door and pour myself some soda, taking the whole bag into my room. For the next half an hour, I watch _Friends _and eat everything my mom brought home, relieved that I'm not, you know, dying of starvation tonight.

After I'm done eating and the _Friends _episode ends, I find myself wanting to talk to Jace. My stomach is filled with butterflies. It's ridiculous, and I shake my head at myself, standing up so I can throw away the empty boxes in the kitchen's trash can.

When I come back into my room, I find myself torn. I want to talk to Jace, but I also want to tell Isabelle everything. If I talk to Jace, it might be weird, and I might also never get sleep. Ever. If I talk to Isabelle, on the other hand, there will be a whole lot of judging.

So, because my head is pounding and exhaustion is weighing me down, I choose to do neither, settling for marathoning _Friends _until I pass out.

* * *

As the days go by, I find myself talking to Jace more and more. I never see him at school, but I talk to him at night. He is the secret I hide deep in my pocket, far away from my friends and family and anyone who would judge me for talking to him.

I don't even know what we talk about anymore. We've been talking for two whole weeks, but the fact that we're separated brings us closer together. We have that reassurance that we don't talk at school, and so we pour our hearts out on Facebook. We talk about the things that we're passionate about (sports, music, and math for him, and art, music, and TV shows for me), the things we wrinkle our noses at (bad acting, obnoxious people, etc.), and then move on to more serious topics, such as our home lives. For example, Jace's dad left him and his mom when he was younger, so he lives with his mom and her boyfriend, Stephen. He doesn't have any siblings, so he's accustomed to a life of loneliness, and I wish I could take all of that away.

It's a Friday yet again, and I hide my phone under the dinner table to talk to Jace. We're out at a restaurant—my mom, her new boyfriend Luke, my brother, and myself. This is the "meet Luke Graymark, because we're getting serious" talk, and I think it's going pretty well so far. He seems pretty cool, and I recognize him from a few Christmas parties and whatnot.

"So, Clary," Luke says to me, "how's school?"

I look up from my phone and directly at him. "It's okay." I shrug. "There's nothing great about school."

He cracks a smile. "It can't all be bad."

"My favorite time of the day is when I get to leave."

My mom sighs. "Neither one of them is like us." She directs herself towards us. "When we were at school together—"

"You mean a million years ago?" The words stumble out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"—we were total nerds." Her eyes narrow. "It's only been _twenty years_, mind you."

"So you're basically ancient," I tell her.

"Oh, come on, Josie." Luke gives her a kiss on the cheek. "She's just messing with you."

My mom shakes her head. "You're right." She gives Luke a smile. "So what're your plans for the weekend?" The question is directed at me and Jonathan, but, obviously, he's the one with an actual social life.

"There's that, uh, celebratory bonfire for the team I told you about," says my brother. "Parents are invited."

"How could I forget?" she asks, eyes widened. "Tomorrow at seven, right?"

"Yup."

"I'll be there. _We_," she says, placing a hand on Luke's shoulder, "will be there."

Bold move, Mom.

"Good to see that you're all going," I say. "I think I'm just gonna have Simon come over."

"No," Jocelyn says, shaking her head. "You're coming with us."

"_Mom_."

"Clary," she says, her tone carrying a warning, "I don't know when we'll be back from the bonfire, and it will be late, and you're only thirteen years old. I am not leaving you alone in the apartment; I don't care what you say."

I groan. "Can't I just go to Simon's? Or Isabelle's?"

"No. You're coming with us to show your support for Jonathan."

"This is ridiculous!" I say, my voice slightly raised. I take a deep breath and try to control my rising pulse. "Mom, I will be bored and whiny the entire time. I don't know the first thing about soccer, and I don't wanna go watch a bunch of douchebags who throw around a ball in a field all day celebrate a meaningless victory with their families. Honestly, I'd rather gouge my eyes out." I stab my meat with the fork.

"Well, that's terrible for you, because you're coming."

"And we don't just throw a ball in a field all day," Jonathan says, defensive. "We kick it, too."

I shake my head, exasperated. I am screwed—royally, of course.

I'm mostly nervous because I know Jace will be there, and there won't be much avoiding him. I'm beyond terrified; we might interact in person, and I don't know what that will be like after days of getting to know parts of him I didn't know existed. I've gotten to know about the shitty things his mom blames on him, about how she wishes he hadn't been born, because maybe then she could've kept her husband. He has told me amazing things, but he has also confessed terrible things, and I don't want to jeopardize our friendship by showing up somewhere.

I'm scared that it might take the magic away.

I go on Facebook, fingers hovering over my phone's keypad. I know the message that I have to compose, but I don't wanna do it.

**Clary Fray**

_Hey, so apparently I'm going to the soccer bonfire thing tomorrow? _

**Jace Wayland**

_You are? _

**Clary Fray**

_Yeah. I thought I'd let you know. _

**Jace Wayland**

_It's hard to picture you as a soccer enthusiast. _

**Clary Fray**

_That's because, as you know, I'm not. Having a bitchy mom that likes to make my life a living hell is seriously sucky. _

**Jace Wayland**

_Don't I know it. _

I cringe inwardly at my lack of tact.

**Clary Fray**

_Sorry, Jace. Hey, listen. I guess I've just been nervous about this thing because I'm not sure if we've been staying away from each other at school on purpose. Anyway, I guess I just wanted to know if that was a coincidence or not. _

**Jace Wayland**

_I haven't been looking for you, but I haven't been avoiding you, either. We have different schedules, Fray. But if I saw you, and if you saw me, then I wouldn't mind._

**Clary Fray**

_Good to know, then. I'll see you tomorrow. _

**Jace Wayland**

_See you then._

I make it through the rest of the night with a restless sort of anticipation. Just when I think I've distracted myself, the mere thought of tomorrow crosses my mind, and my heart starts beating a million miles per minute.

There are a lot of reasons as to why people wouldn't find Jace a fit for me. First of all, he doesn't really care about school. He doesn't put a lot of effort into it, and thus gets bad grades, which results in everyone thinking that he's stupid and dumb and that I deserve better than that. Secondly, they hear that he sleeps around and thinks about sex more than most guys, I guess, so they peg him to be someone who's after my virginity, and only my virginity.

And by "they," I mean Izzy and Simon, and probably my family. So yeah. There are more tiny little reasons, but they're too dumb for me to mention.

By the time tomorrow actually comes, I find myself fully awake. I did sleep in until one p.m., which helps, but now I have approximately six hours of obsessing. I mean, this is ridiculous. Crushes shouldn't be legal. Honestly. All I feel is a storm in my veins and a tornado in my heart, and an earthquake makes my stomach rumble.

But that might be because I'm hungry.

After I eat, I make sure to go upstairs and pick an outfit. It's the last week of May, but it's pretty nice outside, so I wear some jeans, a light sweater, and a pair of Converse. That should be nice enough. Cute, but simple. I leave them on top of my desk, neatly folded and stacked.

I spend the rest of my day doing homework while watching _Friends_, a routine I've pretty much been following all year. Whenever I do homework, I watch a TV show. Otherwise, I can't do my homework. My mom is always confused by it, but she's given up complaining due to my straight As. (Well, I have a B+ in math class, but she's chosen to overlook that.)

My fingers itch to message Jace, and I do so just as I finish my third math problem.

**Clary Fray**

_Are you ready for tonight? _

**Jace Wayland**

_Oh, yeah. Super ready to stand around a fire while our coach talks shit and parents act super proud of their children. _

**Clary Fray**

_Act? _

**Jace Wayland**

_Well, if your child's most outstanding accomplishment is kicking around a ball, then I think both of you have issues. _

**Clary Fray**

_Aren't you one of those children you're so badly criticizing? _

**Jace Wayland**

_There's more to me than a soccer player, Clary. _

**Clary Fray**

_Uh-huh. Like what? _

**Jace Wayland**

_I also happen to be very good at math. _

I snort, shaking my head. It almost feels like a real conversation, even though there's a computer separating us. That, and the fact that our interactions haven't really gone well in person.

**Clary Fray**

_Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Wayland. _

**Jace Wayland**

_I'm hilarious, Clary Fray. It's one of my many talents. _

**Clary Fray**

_What would be the others, then? _

**Jace Wayland **

_I'll show you sometime. _

I'm blushing hard and about to type back when someone knocks on my door, making me panic. My heart is pounding as the door opens, revealing my mother.

"Clary," she says sternly, "it's almost five! It's an hour-long drive to the bonfire, so get ready."

I let out a sigh, partly out of relief. "Yeah. Okay." After she shuts the door, I send Jace a quick message saying that I have to get ready.

Even though Isabelle always insists that I should wear makeup, I don't. I only wear Chapstick when my lips are too dry, so, after I shower and get dressed, I put some on. My hair falls down in soft curls, but they're bound to get messy before we arrive. Thank God I have no zits. Seriously.

I take my phone's charger and my headphones and shove them inside my bag. I make my way out into the living room, where everyone except Jonathan is waiting.

"Where's the person we're attending this for?"

"He's getting ready," Mom says. "Be patient."

I roll my eyes when she's not looking and pull out my phone, scrolling down to where Isabelle's name is on my contact list. I send her a quick text, to which she replies at the speed of lighting.

_I was just about to text you. Freaky, huh? _

_Hahahahaha, yeah. What're you up to? _I hit send before I change my mind. A downside to my constant conversations with Jace has been that I've been neglecting Isabelle's. I'm mostly just terrified of the fact that she's going to make me choose between her and Jace. I'd choose her, of course, but I don't wanna have to choose.

_Hanging with Simon today. Heard about ur bonfire thingy. _

_Yeah, it's something for my brother's team. You know how it is. _

_My brother doesn't do anything with his life, so not exactly. _

I look up as Jonathan enters the living room, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. We all walk out of the apartment, and I bend my head to type as we go down the stairs.

_Alec is awesome. Treasure him. My brother's an idiot. _

_He may be an idiot, but he's an idiot with hot teammates. _

Ain't that the truth.

I agonize about seeing Jace on my way over to the bonfire, but I distract myself by listening to music and texting Isabelle. They're not the best things to do, but they do help take my mind off him. About forty-five minutes into the trip, however, he sends me a message, and everything I've worked so hard to keep for the past near-hour falls away.

**Jace Wayland**

_Are you on your way? _

**Clary Fray**

_Almost there. What about you? _

**Jace Wayland**

_I'm running late, actually. Just left home, so I'll be there in almost an hour. _

**Clary Fray**

_Just send me a message when you're here. And try not to take too long. You're slightly less boring than the other dudes who play with their balls all day long. _

I pat myself in the back for that message and continue to look out the window, attempting to hide the smile that has crept onto my face.

I'm ridiculous.

We arrive at the bonfire a little over an hour after we left our home, which means that Jace still has about forty minutes to go. We say hello to a few people, but I mostly stay behind, looking from a distance as my brother talks to his teammates and Luke and Mom interact with other parents. This is so stupid. Goddamn it. _So stupid_. There are no other little sisters here to interact with their families; the only people here are soccer players and their legal guardians. This is so dumb, and I feel more self-conscious as the seconds tick by.

Thankfully, there's a collection of small huts near the beach's parking lot, so I walk over to one of them and lock myself inside. It's a bathroom. Figures. I sit on the closed toilet and get my phone out. Why do I have such terrible social anxiety? I don't know. I hate that about myself above most things, and it's one of the things I haven't flat out told Jace about yet.

After what seems like an eternity, my phone vibrates.

**Jace Wayland**

_I'm here. Where are you? _

**Clary Fray**

_I'm hiding. _

**Jace Wayland**

_Where? _

**Clary Fray**

_Bathrooms. The little hut thingies. I'm in one of them. _

**Jace Wayland**

_Jesus. Okay. I'll be there soon. My mom's making me say hi to a bunch of people I don't know. _

**Clary Fray**

_I'll be waiting. _

Ten minutes later, I hear footsteps approach. My hands are shaking, and I'm fairly sure that I'm sweating even though it's unusually cool for a late-May afternoon. My phone vibrates.

**Jace Wayland**

_I'm gonna start knocking on them. _

When he finally knocks mine, I open it, and there he stands. Jace Wayland. I never really thought about how awkward this would be, but here it is. Even though we're pretty far from our parents, I motion for him to get inside and lock us both in here.

"Hi," I say to him, my breathing hitched.

"Hey," he says. "Do you wanna tell me why we're locked inside a bathroom?"

I shake my head. "I just don't wanna go out there. I was just awkwardly standing by myself, because I didn't know anyone, and it was too awkward, so I came here." I shrug. "I don't wanna go back out."

"Okay." He nods. "Okay. This is a pretty big bathroom."

Which is how we end up sitting on the floor, side-by-side, our backs pressed up against the wall.

"Did you guys even win a game this season?" I don't look at him as the words spill out of my mouth in a harsh-sounding question.

I can hear the corners of his mouth quirk upward as he replies. "We won a few. Definitely not enough, though."

It makes me smile. "So you lost more than you won?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Oh God." I shake my head. My cheeks are burning for no reason; I've never been more acutely aware of the feeling of blushing than I am right now. "So you're here with your mom?" I finally dare to look at him, red cheeks and messy hair and everything. He's hugging his knees, which are drawn up to his chest.

"Yeah. She was half-drunk by the time we got here, so I'm all about hiding here with you until the night is over."

For some reason, I'm all about this. Galaxies are exploding in my stomach. Stars form as I look at him and see that he has a faint half-smile on his face.

"That sounds nice," I reply.

"So," he says after a bit, "you came here with Jon?"

"Yeah. And my mom. And Luke," I say. I told him all about Luke last night after I got home. "They're all out there, probably not even noticing that I'm gone."

"They notice," he tells me. "Of course they notice."

"They treat me like shit," I say, wincing as the memories come back to me.

I was seven years old when my mom made my mouth bleed and I couldn't eat because it burned and it was swollen and purple for a week and my teacher said that I probably deserved the punishment, even though neither one of them checked to see if the person who accused me of saying a curse word was actually right. My mom went at it without trusting me, and I guess that's why I don't trust myself sometimes.

I was ten years old when my mom rolled her eyes and called me useless and pathetic because I couldn't go up to strangers. Social anxiety was not a word that existed in her vocabulary; it was one she called nonexistent, a word for incompetent pussies, and I cried myself to sleep before I graduated elementary school.

And now I look over at him, and there are words stuck in the back of my throat, words that I know I can't say to him out loud and in person. He must see something on my face, because he nods at me and looks down at his feet.

The memories aren't stopping, and I wish that I wouldn't make myself remember them. They were years ago, and my mother has definitely improved, but they're still far too fresh in my mind, and tears prick my eyes. I don't want to let them fall. I can't let him see me cry yet, but my throat burns like my lips once did, and I don't know if I can stop the pool of tears that has settled in my eyes.

"Clary." Jace is looking at me with worry etched in his eyes. "You're okay."

I nod, willing the tears to dissipate. I take deep, calming breaths, and I get too distracted to notice the way he intertwines his fingers with mine. We're holding hands, I realize, and some time has passed since he took my hand in his. He squeezes it reassuringly every once in a while.

I look up at him, at his worried face, and give him a small, tentative smile. "Thanks," I say, my voice wavering. I clear my throat. "You didn't have to stay for that."

"I wouldn't think of leaving," he says, putting an arm around me.

I lay my head on his shoulder. Now that I'm less emotional and more aware, I realize that this is happening. With one of the most gorgeous guys in school. Oh God, I want to die.

We stay like that for a while. An hour or two pass, and then, suddenly, there is a noise that startles me. I lift my head, realizing with panic that we fell asleep. Jace looks around, slightly disoriented, and then his eyes widen. I check the time on my phone; it's almost ten. I exhale, relieved. Not that bad. My mom has sent me a text: _where are you? we're leaving soon_. It's from five minutes ago.

_I've been reading in the bathroom. I'll be out in a sec. _

"I have to go," I tell him.

"Here," he says. "Give me your number."

I recite my number to him while getting up. "Don't go out with me; wait a few minutes. Also, thank you." I look up and meet his golden eyes. "For everything. You've been—" I shake my head. "Just...thanks."

He nods. "Always."

"Bye," I say, waving awkwardly. I exit the hut, making sure that I don't look like I've been sleeping (or doing other things that one might assume from my bedhead) for the past two hours. I make my way over to where my family stands.

After we say our goodbyes, we make our way over to our car. I get a text from Jace that says _hey_, and I plug my headphones in and smile as I type up a reply.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	3. Caught Up

_Hey, guys! So this was a long weekend, which I'm kind of glad for, because school has been kind of overwhelming lately. But life has been good! I got into two universities last week, so yay! I also started taking driving lessons, because it's about damn time I get my license, and I worked on Saturday, so I've been busy. And in pain. Because my back. Anywayyy, special thanks to IWriteNaked for being the world's most amazing beta ever. As always, thanks to spikeyhairgood and DeathCabForMari for being generally awesome, talented people. :) _

_I want to make a note before I continue on with the story, just because I want to clear this up. In the story's summary, it says that it's an AU and that it's OOC, meaning that the characters are not going to be like the ones in the books. I have to change some things in order for them to go with the story, because that's just the way things are. Yes, Jocelyn is portrayed differently, and yes, Clary is going to be a different age. It's a fanfiction, so it's not going to be like the book. I just wanted to clarify. _

_I hope you guys like this chapter, and thank you for reading!_

* * *

_I just can't shake it  
I just can't break this  
I'm caught up, caught up in this  
__In my racing heart_

_Some days you're looking my way_  
_Every day, I just can't get enough_  
_A frantic clash of feelings_  
_Every time we meet, I get a rush_

"Caught Up" - Stellate

* * *

The days leading up to finals are always brutal. These are my last middle school finals. I graduate a week after school is done and over with, and I honestly can't wait. I mean, not only will I be with an entirely different group of people, but I'll also go to school in the same building as Jace.

Which...well, yeah. I don't think I have to explain why that's a huge bonus.

In class, we review everything we've done from the beginning of the semester up until now. I'm amazed at how much I've forgotten, especially when _some _teachers (my evil math and science teachers) choose to add some material from the previous semester. (They are evil.) Because of that, I spend most of my time studying, only texting Jace when I'm dying of exhaustion or when I need a mental break before I jump out the window.

I mean, even if I _do _talk to Jace less now, I still talk to him a lot. Seeing as we don't share school buildings, we don't really see each other much. We only see each other during lunch, when we go down to the cafeteria, which connects our buildings. I don't talk to him there, though, because Isabelle would stab me repeatedly if I came anywhere near him. So. Yeah. He's my secret, and I'm his.

"You know," he tells me one night, now that we've upgraded to talking on the phone, "my finals end before yours, and I have no plans after."

"I don't get picked up until three," I whisper. "That's three whole hours of doing nothing."

"That would be terrible for me to overlook."

I smile. "There's also an after-finals party on Friday in my English classroom. We'll have food and a movie."

There's a slight pause. "Are you sure? From what you've told me, your friends aren't too happy with the two of us hanging out."

I feel my cheeks burning at that. The truth is, I haven't been _totally _honest with him. Two or three days ago, I told him that Isabelle didn't think this was a good idea. What he doesn't know, however, is that Isabelle has no idea that he's my friend. Or whatever he is. I'm not sure that friends make you feel like this, like you've never been more alive and alert, like you can't breathe, but you want to.

"I don't mind." I find myself actually believing that. If Isabelle can't see that I'm happy, then fuck that. He's a good guy. Seriously. He's the only one who's been there to help me get through this past week and a half. Luke and my mom had their first fight, and she's been taking it out on me, calling me names and slapping me senseless for stupid shit. She doesn't do it all the time, and I _probably _shouldn't talk back to her, but still. That reasoning doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Okay," Jace says. "I'm there."

I bite my lip. "Perfect. So, text me tomorrow and tell me where to meet up with you?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Bye."

I hang up, re-reading my notes for what feels like the millionth time. I have my Spanish final tomorrow, along with my science one, and I'm trying to re-read everything as much as I can. I hate middle school. They teach everything in the most boring way and then expect us to like learning it.

I end up passing out. I remember to charge my phone, but I give up on studying and crawl under my blankets, letting their warmth put me to sleep.

In the morning, the bright light that comes with the summer wakes me up before my mother's voice does. I have a slight headache, and I'm pretty sure I've never hated myself more than I do right now, but I get dressed and go into the kitchen with my bag, the smell of breakfast being cooked welcoming me.

"Bacon," Jon says, wagging his eyebrows.

I serve myself some eggs and bacon along with orange juice and sit down. My mind is floating; I barely register my movements. I'm so tired. How am I supposed to take _two _finals today? And to socially interact with Jace afterwards? So unfair.

Finals work in a very simple way: we take one from 9 to 10:30, and then we get a thirty-minute break, and then we take a final from 11 to 12:30. So, yeah. I get to spend some time with Jace, but I'm also going to die beforehand, so I'm not sure that's a fair trade.

Because I'm dying.

Jace.

Death.

Jace.

Death.

I sigh, finish my breakfast, go up to brush my teeth, and then make my way back down. As always, my brother finishes getting ready before I do, and we're out of the house by 8:30. Music fills the drive to school, and I try not to panic too hard about today. Mostly about finals, but partly about Jace.

"Have a good day!" my mother says as she drops us off. "I'll pick you up at around three."

"Around?" My brother's eyes narrow.

My mom returns the gesture in kind. "Well, it depends on the day, Jonathan."

"Bye," I say, knowing well enough that they're gonna start fighting over this now. Great. Another thing to hear them bitch about later on.

I walk over to my locker, not surprised to see Isabelle and Simon standing by it. We all have lockers in the same area; Simon's is to my right, and Isabelle's to my left. They look up when they see me enter the hallway. Whatever conversation they were having dies out as I get closer to them, but I don't have the energy to ask them what's up.

"Hey," Simon says. "You look tired."

"I am." I close my eyes for a second. "I barely got any sleep."

"When did you go to bed?" he asks, concerned.

"Like, one in the morning?"

"Well," Isabelle says, "combine that with the fact that you haven't been sleeping at all for the past few weeks, and you get a very exhausted, mentally incapable Clary."

I glare at her. "Thanks."

We make our way over to our homeroom, falling into step beside each other despite the chaos. People are cramming for finals, trying to memorize every bit of information before entering their classrooms. I, however, have stopped caring. I maintained an excellent average throughout middle school, and am graduating with honors. As long as I get decent grades on my finals, I should be okay.

And I will. Get decent grades, I mean.

My first final is math. I settle into my seat, watch as the teacher gives us a few minutes, and wonder if what I memorized will be enough to get me a halfway decent grade. I glance around the room, looking at all of the people who will either stay or leave at the school after graduation, and back down at my desk.

By the time the bell rings, we've been given our tests, and the instructions have been read. She gives us the approval to start our test, and the sound of paper rustling and people scribbling formulas fills my ears. I focus on the test, on each individual problem, but the entire time I'm exhausted, thinking that I might just pass out if I have to keep going through this.

Somehow, I end up finishing the test with forty-five minutes to spare. I take a nap, my head resting in the safety of my arms. I don't dream of anything; I don't think that forty-five minutes is enough time to formulate a complex dream or anything. All I know is that the sudden, sharp noise of the bell ringing wakes me up, and Simon and Isabelle are talking to each other when my eyes can finally make out the figures surrounding me.

The teacher warns us to make it back in time, but we're rushing out of the classroom and down the stairs, our feet pounding against the cement floors as our growling stomachs trump all reason. It's hell to find a decent place to sit, but Isabelle gives me money to buy her breakfast and goes to find us a table.

The line is eternal, but it's moving fast. In only five minutes or so, we make it to the front. I order a sandwich for both myself and Isabelle and get us both orange juice. When I look around, I'm not surprised to see her talking to Simon, who was in line before me.

I make my way over to the table, sitting down in front of them. "What's up with you two today?"

"With us?" She raises an eyebrow. "When were _you _gonna tell us that you're talking to Jace Wayland?"

I can't help but be slightly stunned at her skills. Seriously, _how_?

"You left me with your laptop," she says with a shrug. "You know, on Saturday? When I went over to study for Spanish? He messaged you when I was scrolling through your Facebook, and I may or may not have read a bit, and _Jesus_, you've gotten personal."

My eyes widen, and my heart stutters. "I didn't tell you that you could look at my conversations."

"With Jace!"

"They were _private._" I glare at her. Now that the initial shock has worn off, I'm letting myself feel angry. "You're my best friend, Iz, but that's messed up." Before she can answer, I take my stuff, dump the sandwich in the trash, and make my way back upstairs.

* * *

After I finish my Spanish final and the bell for it rings, I dash out of the classroom. I don't wanna give Isabelle a chance to attempt to apologize, or to demand one from me. I don't know what she was planning on doing with the fact that I'm pissed and she's in the wrong (but thinks she's in the right), so I don't give her a chance to do anything.

People, as always, don't talk to me. It isn't because they hate me or whatever, but because they think that I'm a lot of things that I'm not. They tease me because I wear black, which is just the most idiotic thing I've had to witness in my entire life, and because I listen to music that _isn't _pop/rap/hip-hop. Shocker, I know. Aside from that, they think that I cut myself because I always wear sweaters, and that my skinny body means that I'm anorexic. They know that I'm okay to talk to, but they choose not to—especially when I look murderous. Which I do.

I text Jace, telling him that I'll be behind the middle school building. Our building is the oldest, so no one hangs around in the back. There's a fence keeping us from walking out into the street, and there is a tall mural of bushes that hides the street from us as well, so we're pretty much safe if we go there.

I sit on my backpack for almost ten minutes before I feel his presence. He walks up to me, panting slightly, and sits in the same position I'm in. "Sorry that I'm late," he says. "My teacher caught a student cheating and wouldn't let us out."

"Gross." I make a face. "How were your finals?" I know that he took English and math today, so there's that.

"Math was good," he tells me. One thing that shocked me was that he loves math. I mean, I never would've pegged him as the kind of dude who fangirls over the quadratic formula, but I guess that's who he is. "And English was okay. I didn't study much for it, anyway." After a beat, he asks, "How were yours?"

I fill him in on my finals and my exhaustion, and we settle into an easy conversation. I try not to let my encounter with Isabelle come up, but, halfway through our conversation, he frowns. "There's something up," he points out. Damn him and his outstanding deduction skills.

I shrug. "Just Isabelle."

"What happened?"

I look over at him, and I realize that I don't want to hurt him. Isabelle can talk shit about him all she wants, but I'm not gonna let that get in the way of what I have with him. So I shake my head and give him a small smile. "It's nothing."

He searches my face for something that gives me away, but I don't let anything show. Finally, he looks away, and I let out a breath. Thank. _God_.

We choose to listen to music the rest of the time. My head rests on his shoulder, and I feel myself drifting in and out of sleep as different upbeat songs fill the silence. I don't really know whether this is what I should be doing—I should be trying to get to know him more in person or something—but this feels _right_. He grabs my hand and our fingers interlock. My heart begins to thud faster, but I try to play it cool.

I'm glad that my red hair covers up my smile.

* * *

Wednesday and Thursday pass by in an easy, comfortable pattern. I get up, go to school, take two finals, avoid Isabelle, ignore Simon, hang out with Jace, avoid telling him what's wrong, go home, study for my next two finals, watch an episode of _The Nanny _when it's on Nickelodeon, and then go to bed.

On Friday, though, it's a bit different. We only take one final, and then there's the after finals party thing in my homeroom. I'm a bit nervous from the moment I get up; I don't know _what _I'm gonna do. Part of my jittery feeling is due to the fact that Isabelle's gonna see us hang out.

And so will everyone else.

I finish my English final pretty fast. I nap the rest of the time, a dreamless kind of sleep that passes by in the blink of an eye. And then the bell rings, a shrill noise that makes me startle in my seat, and I'm awake, the noise of papers rustling as people struggle to scribble down their last minute, half-assed answers.

As soon as the teacher has all of the exams, students, including myself, pull out their phones. I see that I already have a text from Jace. _I'll be there in 20 mins. _

I listen to music to pass the time as people get settled in. They talk amongst themselves, most likely about the exam and graduation and the fact that, oh my God, it's _over_. We finished. It's done. And now, it's a whole new stage for us, a whole new world to conquer.

And it's not nearly as exciting as it will be when we go to college, but it's just as amazing and thrilling in the moment.

As the clock ticks by and it's time for Jace to get here, I grow more and more nervous. Isabelle has finally gotten the hint, and she sits at the back of the row with Simon, who sometimes sneaks worried glances my way. People look at me with a pitying kind of look, and I think that maybe they whisper amongst themselves as if to say _see, I told you she's a loner/emo/weirdo_, but they don't say it loudly enough for me to say it back.

Finally, Jace texts me a simple _on my way_, and I'm a nervous wreck. Despite myself, I think about what others would think when he comes in and sits by my side and holds my hand, which has become the new normal thing for us. It started as such a simple, obvious move that I haven't wanted to bring it up again in fear of it ceasing to happen. I really like how his hand is always warm when it wraps around mine, and how they seem to fit perfectly together as we place them in between us and just _exist_.

I think that his presence ignited something in the room, because the noise of people huddling around to talk while pretending to watch whatever sci-fi movie has begun playing stops. It's subtle, but it's as if everyone focuses on the fact that _he's _here. When he sits beside me, I think people actually gasp, but I don't care. People say shitty stuff about him, but they adore him anyway. People say shitty stuff about _me_, and they seem to be indifferent. Adoration and indifference do not go hand in hand.

There is a spark in my blood as he holds my hand in his and asks for one of my headphones. I give it to him, settling into our routine. The place has changed, but it's basically the same thing. We lower the volume and, after a while, he finally speaks.

"How was your final?"

"So easy," I say. "And yours?"

"Well, let's just say that I'm not good at history." He grimaces. "But I don't think I failed."

I shake my head and smile at him. "I seriously worry about your indifference when it comes to grades sometimes."

"I'm not _indifferent_. I just don't freak out over bad grades."

"That's basically what I'm saying, Wayland."

"Well, _Fray_," he says, imitating my tone, "not all of us can be crazy smart."

I feel my cheeks getting hot. "I'm not smart."

"You have straight As and are graduating with honors," he replies, rolling his eyes. "You're smart. And talented."

Yup. He's seen my sketches.

I cover my face with my hands. "Stoooooop."

He lets out a low laugh. "Okay, okay. But seriously. You learn to be okay with a bad grade or two."

"My mother would shoot me in the face if I got a bad grade."

"Seriously, Clary, does it have to be that detailed?"

"Yes. Because it's _true_." I'm not entirely sure if she'd actually shoot me in the face, but there would be some serious punishment involved. And, let's be real, it won't be pretty. And, if the grade is that bad, blood might be involved.

He rolls his eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"I learned from the best."

"Hilarious." But he's smiling, giving me a look that's meant just for me. I smile back and rest my head on his shoulder, ignoring the whispers and stares, and not glancing to look at my friends—not even once.

We continue to talk in low voices, blocking out the world around us. At some point, we stop feeling the whispers and stares and just focus on _us_.

And it's kind of nice.

At some point, we stop talking and just scroll through Tumblr on his phone. He points out things that remind him of me, and vice-versa. I can't help but blush every time he points to something and leans in to whisper, "That's you." It's just nice to feel like someone remembers you on a daily basis. It's nice to feel like they see you in the details.

When the bell rings, we're the first to bolt. I take his hand and follow him down the stairs, and people whisper about us, but we keep going, back to our usual spot. It's nice to hold hands with him in private, and it's comforting to remember that the terrible, terrifying part of this is over.

And now we only have the way our hands fit and the things we say, and it's undeniably perfect.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	4. Breathe

_Helloooo! I'm falling asleep, so I don't really have a lot to say except, like, "Here you go." Anyway, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing and to LuckyasLockhart for helping me choose a song. :) Special shoutout/thanks to DeathCabForMari and spikeyhairgood for being supportive and awesome and yes. You're all awesome. :D I hope you guys like this chapter! (Also, keep in mind that a) Clary is thirteen years old, and b) her mom can be emotionally abusive (and physically as well), even if it's not something that's a huge thing throughout the story. They're both important things to keep in mind during this chapter.) _

* * *

_Music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie  
__It's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see  
__Cause it's tragedy and it'll only bring you down  
__Now I don't know what to be without you around_

_And we know it's never simple, never easy.  
__Never a clean break, no one here to save me.  
__You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand  
__-  
__It's two A.M.  
__Feelin' like I just lost a friend  
__Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me  
__It's two A.M.  
__Feelin' like I just lost a friend.  
__Hope you know this ain't easy, easy for me_

"Breathe" - Taylor Swift

* * *

The feeling that creeps up on me begins with one simple text.

_I need to talk to you_.

It comes from Jace, three days after school ends. We were supposed to go to the movies on Saturday, but my mother, who has met Jace, _really _doesn't like him. I don't know why, and she doesn't care to elaborate. She shakes her head and says, "You wouldn't understand, but you need to stay away from him."

So I've been texting him without her knowing about it, and it's been great. I haven't told him about my mom not liking him, because that's embarrassing. And humiliating. I mean, why did I have to be cursed with such a close-minded mother? Why?

Anyway, he and I have been talking every day, and I made up a crappy excuse to bail on Saturday. I was going to tell him today about everything, but then he sent me that text, and I've been staring at it for two whole minutes now, a feeling that feels a little like dread coursing through my veins.

_Okay. Phone, Skype, text, or? What's up? _

His next text shows up almost immediately. _Is there a way for us to meet up_?

Fuck.

_Not really. What's wrong? _

I bite my lip as I anxiously wait for a reply. An episode from the sixth season of _Friends _is playing on Netflix, but I'm not paying attention. I stare at my phone; my gaze could burn a hole right through it.

An eternity passes by, and still nothing. I try to focus on _Friends_, but the feeling growing inside of me intensifies, and I feel like I am two seconds away from falling apart.

My phone chimes with a new message from him. _So a lot of things have happened today. I didn't do too well in my classes, so my mom is using this as an excuse to move to the suburbs instead of staying in Manhattan, so we'll be moving to Westchester. I'm leaving in less than two weeks, and I'm still processing it, but I needed to tell you_.

My heart plummets, and it feels like I've been hit by a ton of bricks. My breath falls away from me, and I re-read the text about a million times before I call him, hands shaking slightly.

"Clary?"

"You're leaving?" My voice threatens to break, but I tell myself to be strong.

He lets out a sigh. "Yeah. Soon. And I don't—God, I don't wanna leave, but you know my mom."

I know _of _her, but yeah. She sucks. "And she just told you today?" My mind is reeling. The distance could work, I think. Yeah. We're so good together. I mean, this isn't even an official thing, but we're _so _good.

"An hour ago. I told you as soon as I found out the details," Jace tells me.

I sniffle. "Thanks. Look," I say, "there's a reason I haven't been able to see you."

"What's up?"

"My mom—she thinks…" I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all. "She thinks you're a bad influence on me or something. She says she doesn't like you—which is ridiculous, because she doesn't even _know _you—and that I need to stay away from you." When I finish speaking, I feel like I'm about to cry, because it feels like shit to have to say this to a person I care about.

"Oh, man," he says. "Well, your mom can be very persuasive."

"Which means what?"

"Nothing," he tells me. "I'm just saying."

But I know there's more to it.

And I also know he's right.

There's a reason I flinch every time she raises her voice or moves too close to me when we're arguing. It's the same reason why some memories from years ago hit me so hard that I still cry myself to sleep at night over them sometimes.

Yeah. I'm scared of crossing her, because she has a side that can kill the best parts of me.

We talk for a while before I hang up, using the excuse that I have to go eat to hide the fact that my mom just go home. I take a deep breath and make my way out into the kitchen.

Just as I close the door to my room, I get a text from Jace. _So...you know I like you, right?_

"Hi," Mom says, a small smile on her face. "I just got home from the school. Your report card's in my purse."

"Great," I mumble, taking it out. All As. I wish I could celebrate, but there is a knot in my throat and a heaviness in my heart, and I can't shake either one of them out.

"I overheard that Jace Wayland got expelled." She says it casually as she moves some things around in the kitchen. "I told you he was no good."

Wait.

_Expelled? _

"Why did he get expelled?" I ask casually.

"Bad grades," she replies. "What do you want for lunch? I was thinking maybe—"

"He's my _friend_, Mom!" The words stumble out of my mouth before they become a coherent thought, and I want to kick myself a billion times for making that declaration out loud.

She turns around sharply. "No, Clarissa, he isn't. You've stopped talking to him, haven't you?"

To say that I'm a bad liar when in this kind of situation would be a severe understatement.

She storms into my room. Because I'm still in middle school, and also because she's a protective idiot, she has my laptop's password. She logs into all of my social media accounts and starts deleting and blocking him, much to my horror. I run into my bathroom and take out my phone, my hands shaking as I compose what is probably the hardest message I've ever had to send.

_I don't think we should talk anymore. The truth is, I don't feel the same way about you, and I can't have someone in my life who doesn't feel the drive to do well in school and stuff. Anyway, I just don't think we should stay in contact. _

I hit send, blocking his phone number and deleting all of our messages right after. I hold the tears in for later, for when I'm alone in my room with sad music playing and the lights out. I walk back out. My mother confiscates my laptop for a week and does a thorough phone check before allowing me to keep it.

And I want to die.

And I want my friends.

I lock myself in my room, turn off the lights, shut the blinds, and cry quietly, wrapped up in my blankets. I want to talk to Isabelle and Simon, but would they get it? I wish I could text Jace—I still have his number memorized; it is forever etched into my memory—but I don't think I can ever talk to him again after that message.

So I just cry, because I never really got to say goodbye.

* * *

On graduation day, my mother wakes up excited and proud, and I try to do the same, but there is a weight in my heart that makes everything I do feel mechanic.

One of the things I did was make amends with my friends. The truth is, I still dislike the fact that they were so quick to judge Jace, but I do need to have _someone _in my life. Isabelle apologized, too, and she and Simon had the decency to look mildly stricken as I told them about what happened with Jace. They gave me hugs and told me that everything was going to be okay, but there was a huge hole in my heart and in my life that only he could fix.

But I fucked it all up.

I've been waking up with my eyes hurting from crying myself to sleep. It's ridiculous, the fact that I've been crying for a few days straight, but guilt consumes me, paralyzes me. I often wonder what could've happened if I hadn't gone and sent it all to hell, and that's all it takes to get me crying.

I shake those thoughts away, already feeling the back of my eyes burning with tears, and make my way over to my closet. My graduation dress hangs along with my tassel and gown, and I take them over to my bed and inspect them. My gown is blue, and my dress is simple and white, and it reaches just above my knees. I decide to wear flats, because there is actually no way in _hell _that I'll wear heels. I'll fall so hard if I do, it's not even funny.

So I'm wearing flats. Even though I'm barely five feet tall.

"Clary!" My mom's voice carries all the way to my room. "Are you up?"

"Yeah!" I call out. "Just getting ready!"

"Let me know when you're done with the dress so I can do your hair!"

I roll my eyes at that. "Sure!"

I look plain. I don't like the way that the white looks on me, and the blue makes me want to throw up. I sigh, put on my flats, and make my way over to my mom's room. She's getting dressed, too; she's wearing a long, green dress, her hair up in a bun.

She looks pretty, but looking at her makes me sick.

"I'm ready," I tell her, plopping down on the chair that sits in front of her vanity. "Work your magic."

She tries to make small talk with me, asking me if I'm nervous or if I'm excited. I don't want to let her know much, so I just shrug at most of her questions and keep my eyes trained on my hands, which play with the soft material of the gown.

I look up when she finally calls out that she's done. My hair is down in waves. It is the longest it's ever been, and it looks so _nice_. I want to thank my mom, but the words die in my throat, and I just give her a quick smile that doesn't reach my eyes before making my way inside my room. Thank God I'm not wearing any makeup, because the tears are threatening to spill.

How am I supposed to live with her for five more years?

I get a picture from Isabelle and use it as a distraction. She's wearing a black dress that makes her look nice. She's one of the more developed girls in our class, and the dress accents her curves and makes her look stunning. She's wearing makeup, and her hair is curled at the ends. She looks like a queen.

I send her a message telling her that she looks amazing, and I even add two exclamation marks, but then I look at myself in the mirror and feel plain in comparison. Not that I like comparing myself to Isabelle, but still. The generally crappy feelings that have been accumulating for days continue finding things to bother me and make me feel like shit.

I eat some breakfast while watching _Friends_, with which I'm almost done. I've had nothing to do but sulk during the past few days, but I've also been binge-watching the show, so there's that. I only have a season more to go, I think.

A few minutes before eleven, my family and I are in our car and on our way to my school. We should've just taken the subway, but my mom hates it, and Luke insisted, so there was no other option. I sit in the back, my headphones plugged in, and my heart sinks when every song reminds me of him.

He's probably packing or wandering around the city. Whatever it is that he's doing, it's definitely got to be more exciting than standing outside under the glaring sun while we wait to be called into the multipurpose room/gym. I wish I could be wherever he is.

I think part of me will always be.

I know that it's ridiculous that I feel so attached to him, but it's just that, over the time that I've made friends and gotten to know people, I've never connected to someone so instantaneously. With Simon, I sort of got used to him knowing everything about me, but, even then, I didn't even tell him some things. With Isabelle, it's a totally different thing, because she is Jace's opposite; he asks me things with hesitation, always wanting me to be okay with telling him things, while she is all demands and screams and fights.

And I love her, but he's different.

After listening to the principal talk while sitting in squeaky, uncomfortable plastic chairs, we finally get our diplomas. The principal congratulates us again, and then we're done. Graduated. Unlike in movies, we don't throw our tassels into the air, but we hug everyone, and I hug Simon and Isabelle, congratulate some people, and find my mom, Luke, and Jon. My mom is crying, dabbing at her eyes with Luke's handkerchief, and I'm torn between wanting to hug her and wanting to punch her. I smile awkwardly as she wraps her arms around me, and, after a moment of hesitation, I hug her back.

She's done a lot of shitty things as a parent, but she's still my mom.

We make our plans to eat with Simon and Isabelle's families, the three of us walking behind our parents and siblings as they try to find a place to eat. Simon and Isabelle are excited; I mean, they're basically glowing. They can both tell that something's off, but, instead of making a big deal out of it, they try to cheer me up by ignoring it and acting as if I'm feeling the way they do, too.

And I can't thank them enough for not making a scene.

We end up going to Macaroni Grill, which is pretty much my favorite place in the world. As I focus on my friends, who have been trying hard to get back on my good side, I think that maybe, just maybe, I can get through today without crying.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	5. You're Dead Wrong

_Hey, guys! I know that I forgot to update yesterday (oops?), but here I am todaaay. I've found out some awesome news about colleges + finances, and everything just seems to be clicking into place, even if this week IS hell week at school. I'm seriously sleep deprived and dying of stress, but whateverrrr. Anyway, thanks to my lovely beta, IWriteNaked, for being awesome, and to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, LuckyAsLockhart, and katethewriter for being awesome in their own, personal ways. I love talking to all of you, and you're awesome. I realize I'm using that word a lot, but I'm brain dead right now, so._

_I hope you guys like this chapter! Thanks for reviewing/following/favoriting/reading!_

* * *

_She's got all my dreams  
I've got these broken things  
And they always disagree  
But if there's one real thing  
You would choose to believe  
Just don't lose your faith in me  
_

_She's got broken things  
Where her heart should be  
And I keep rolling them over in my head _

"You're Dead Wrong" - Mayday Parade

* * *

"Clary, don't."

"Clary, come on."

"_Clary_," Isabelle hisses. "This is ridiculous. Come _on_."

My hand shakes as I clutch the phone with it tightly. Isabelle and Simon look worried, their eyebrows furrowed, their lips pursed. The truth is, when they suggested this jokingly a few minutes ago, they weren't expecting this to happen.

But they don't know just how much I'm willing to fall back into old habits again.

His phone number is engraved into my heart; I could recite those ten numbers I dialed almost every night in my sleep. I want to hear the sound of his voice so _badly_, but there's a million reasons why I shouldn't hit the call button.

Simon meets my eyes. Simon, who knows me better than most people, who knows how badly I need this. He nods at me, so fast I think I'm imagining it. "Call him."

"What?!" Isabelle asks, outraged. "_Simon_!"

"Izzy," he says calmly, "shut up. It's my phone."

"And that's also your best friend! Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm right here," I say, biting my lip. "I want to call him. Oh God, I'm so nervous."

"Then don't call him."

I shake my head. "I _have _to."

"You don't have to do anything," Isabelle pleads. "Clary, come _on_."

I hit the green button and hold the phone to my ear, making the two of them shut up at once. The phone rings, and my chest feels like it is growing tighter by the second. I almost can't breathe by the time I hear a tired, "Hello?" from the other line

My eyes widen, and everything falls away. "Hi. Is this, uh, Jace Wayland?"

There's silence from the other end. Then: "Clary?"

I exhale, suddenly wishing that I were alone. "Yeah, it's me. Listen—"

"Just tell me it wasn't the truth."

"I can explain everything."

"Then explain."

I take a deep breath. "Give me a second." I motion for the two of them to leave the room. Even though I know that they'll be listening in from outside, it makes me feel better to be alone in the room. "Okay. Listen. My mom—she's a total psycho, okay? And she made me stop talking to you, which is why I've blocked you everywhere."

"So what you sent isn't true?"

I shake my head. "Of course not."

He lets out a breath. "Good, Clary, because I—"

"Wait." I close my eyes. "Look, it isn't true, but we still can't talk, you know? I'm calling from my friend's number, because I had to explain everything to you. But we can't—I mean, my mom—"

"Then why did you call me?" His voice is harsher now.

"To explain," I say. "I just didn't want you to think that I don't like you, because I—"

"You _what_, Clary?"

I bite my lip. "I just wanna spend time with you, Jace, but I can't."

"Then _please_," he says, the pain evident in his voice, "don't call again."

And then he hangs up.

As soon as I set Simon's crappy flip phone down on the bed, the two of them walk in, shut the door, and rush over to me, hugging me and telling me that things are going to be okay and that there's ice cream downstairs and that he's an idiot. And I love my friends, but all I want to do—all I ever want to do—is be alone.

* * *

It is hard not to pick up the phone and dial his number when I'm alone, especially when the ten digits pop into my mind every two seconds, begging me to call.

It makes me feel physical pain the whole summer. I follow a routine, though: sleep in, work the afternoon shift at Luke's bookstore, hang out with my friends, and then come back home. My mom usually tries for there to be someone at our home whenever I'm alone, but summer is a busy time in the city, so I'm mostly alone in the empty apartment, my phone at a distance.

I could give in. I think that every day, but then I picture what his face must have looked like the last time we spoke and the desire to call him is replaced with a feeling of dread and anxiety. I just can't believe that I've managed to fuck up this royally. It makes my stomach ache. It makes me want to throw up, even though I haven't thrown up in about eight years. It's honestly killing me from the inside out.

He's devastated, and it's all my fault.

Isabelle tries to get me to talk about it sometimes, but I can't. Every time I try to put into words how painful it is to feel like someone's misery is my fault, nothing comes out. Nothing. I just feel even shittier than I did before, and I end up crawling into my bed, pulling my blankets on top of me, and sleeping for the rest of the day.

When Simon tries, I get a few more words out, but it's nothing life-changing, either. I just shrug whenever he asks how I'm doing. If I'm in bed, with my blankets around me, then I tell him a bit more. I tell him I'm sad. Worried. Mad. I make it through the basic emotions, but I can never explain to him how that deeper layer feels, how it feels to be so guilty that I can barely go on every day without wondering how I can live with myself.

I lose my passion for drawing. I don't read. I barely go out. Life is as boring for me as it is for a 90-year-old in a retirement home, only it's worse for me, because I _choose _to be this way. I choose to stay in and watch Netflix and cry and barely eat.

I just stop caring.

And it is so difficult, because my mom always tells me to stop being such a crybaby. If I even think of standing up to her, she goes berserk, and that ends in me holding a hand to my throbbing cheek as I lock myself up in my room to cry even more. _She's insane. She's insane. She's insane_.

Sometimes I think I might be going insane, too.

I know, reasonably, that I'm not actually going insane. I know what is real and what isn't; I know that what I'm feeling is just a combination of sadness and stress. But it doesn't make it less painful, less impacting. My eyes are always heavy, as is my heart. I always feel like it takes all of my energy to take a step, to interact with someone.

Will this ever end?

It's how I spend my summer. Two whole months of me feeling like shit and people either condemning me for it or trying to make it better by blindly looking for ways to help. I appreciate the latter, but it's not that easy. It takes so much more than just a talk or a distraction.

I just need him.

But I can't have him.

And I hate myself for being hung up on something like this. I guess it's just because he's the first guy to ever _like _me. He's the first one, aside from Simon, who's gotten to know me—_really _know me. I wish that I could share everything about every day with him, but now he's gone, and I don't know what to do with the hole that's left in my life.

It hasn't faded away. Two months later, at the end of the summer, I still feel the piercing pain of a hole in my chest. It is constant, so I've learned to live with it, but life is constantly difficult and heavy, and all of my thoughts—all of my everythings—lead to him in the end.

* * *

_Let me know what you guys think! xo_


	6. Right Now

_Hey, guys! I got through the hell that was last week, though I did pass out on Friday as soon as I got home and slept through the monstrous noises my AC made the entire time, so that's something. Anyway, here's the new update! Thanks to the awesome IWriteNaked for beta'ing this for me! Also, special thanks to LuckyAsLockhart for always reminding me to update on Mondays, and to DeathCabForMari and spikeyhairgood for being generally cool people. As per usual, thank you all for reading and following/favoriting/reviewing the story. I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_Right now  
__I wish you were here with me  
__'Cause right now  
Everything is new to me  
__You know I can't fight the feeling  
__And every night I feel it  
__Right now  
I wish you were here with me_

"Right Now" - One Direction

* * *

On the first day of high school, a whole week after my birthday, there are whispers and stares, and his name goes hand-in-hand with mine. I hear it wherever I go; hell, I can almost feel him here with me.

But my mind is playing tricks on me. What I feel is the absence of him, and it feels like someone is driving a sword through my chest.

Simon and Isabelle walk on either side of me, so I'm sandwiched between the two of them as they argue about the benefits and disadvantages of our lockers being on the third floor of the building. We couldn't choose the floor; the school already did that for us. We could, however, choose our lockers.

Yup.

Mine is between theirs.

I have a headphone plugged in as we make our way over to our lockers. We only have our notebooks so far, so what we really wanted to do was take care of checking our locks and everything. Once that's done, we leave our backpacks inside and make our way down. We were instructed to go straight to the school's multipurpose room for a school-wide assembly, where our schedules will be handed to us.

What a pain in the ass.

It is strange, though, to look around and see unfamiliar faces. I feel like there has been a shift, like the people that I once rolled my eyes at are now the ones that stick together. They're the ones who smile at me as I walk by them, no trace of insincerity evident on their faces. They're scared, but it's still weird.

"Hi."

I don't realize that I'm sitting next to her until she speaks. Of course, I've known her for ages, but we've never actually, you know, _spoken_. The truth is, I've always heard that she's kind of a bitch, and now she's here, talking to me, with her kind brown eyes and her nice-looking expression, and all of those rumors are suddenly hard to believe.

Maia gives me a smile. "Clary, right?"

"Right."

"Maia."

"I know."

She waits a beat, and then: "Excited?"

"Can't wait," I say enthusiastically.

"Right." She lets out a laugh. "I think we all feel that way."

"Not Simon." I glance at my best friend, who's currently talking to Isabelle about something that she desperately does not want to hear. "Or Isabelle. You know, I think they're both pretty fearless."

"Hmm." Maia looks at them for a second, seemingly thinking about what I've just said, before turning back to me. "I don't know. I've always thought you were the fearless one."

I let out a laugh. "Me?"

"Yeah. I don't know. You were always so badass, and you never cared what people thought. Like the last day of school last year with Jace."

I take a breath before answering her. "Yeah, well, I'm the opposite of what you thought. Sorry to disappoint."

"My only label for you wasn't fearless, you know." She means it jokingly, but still.

"What? Is emo the other one?"

She rolls her eyes. "Chill, okay? I'm not trying to attack you. I'm just saying that I think you're ballsy, and, I don't know, I'd like to hang out."

I know that Isabelle had begun talking to Maia two weeks ago, and that they'd even gone out once, but still. This is totally different. This is _outrageous_. Maia was known as the ultimate bitch, the slut, the tramp. And here she is, probably playing one of her cheap tricks on me.

"Isabelle told you to win me over, didn't she?"

She opens her mouth, then closes it quickly. "How did you _know _that?"

"Well, for one, I'm not a brainless idiot, and I have eyes. And a thought process."

Maia rolls her eyes again. "Okay, okay, I get it. You don't like me, and you think I do everything wrong."

"So we both agree that nothing good could come of this?"

"Are you always this pessimistic?"

"Are you always this annoying?" I don't face her as I say it. The truth is, my heart is turned to stone. I wish I could care—in fact, I think that maybe a tiny part of me does—but I just don't have the energy.

"I give up."

"Good."

When we were in the fourth grade, I hated her guts because she stole my best friend at the time, Aline. She hung out with me and Simon, and she was great—until Maia got a hold of her. She stopped hanging out with us after a while, and then altogether, and now I don't even know if she's alive.

I struggle with the fact that that's how things go sometimes.

I look at her and sigh. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"It's fine."

"Hanging out sounds nice."

"Can I sit with you during lunch, then?"

"Sure."

"MAIAAAAAAAAAA."

The sound of her name comes from the back of her seat. I whirl around to find her boyfriend, Jordan Kyle, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Jordaaaan," she whines. "You know that I don't want you to be loud."

"Mhmm. Totally hearing you. Okay, I have to go, babe. I love you, and I'll see you later." He gives her a quick kiss on the lips, which has people yelling "oooooh!" in less than a second, before sauntering off to his section in the room. He's a junior, so he sits across from us, with a whole aisle separating our sections.

"Sorry about that." Her cheeks are red. "He's...loud."

"It's none of my business. But he is."

I watch as she smiles. She looks like she wants to say something, but the principal, Mrs. Herondale, begins speaking, and so we all shut up and listen as she welcomes us to the school and wishes us a great school year and talks about the high expectations she has and how a great class is leaving but one equally as great is joining the school. Blah, blah, blah. I space out at some point, leaning my head on Simon's shoulder.

"Hey." He nudges me. "Let's go get our schedules."

I realize that I must've drifted off. "Hmm?" His words catch up to me. "Yeah. Okay."

I don't say anything to Maia as we stand up and look for the table with our last names. There's A-E, F-J, K-M, O-T, and U-Z. Our tables are adjacent to one another, but I stand in mine alone while they, Lewis and Lightwood, stand together in theirs.

Soon enough, a lady is in front of me, sitting behind the table, and barking out, "Last name?"

"Fray," I reply, looking around nervously.

"Clarissa?"

I nod and bite my lip. She hands me my schedule, and I move aside. Simon and Isabelle are still in line, so I move towards the exit and look at my schedule.

Homeroom: Mr. Starkweather  
English I  
Algebra I  
Snack  
World History I  
Economics  
Spanish I  
Lunch  
Biology  
Ceramics I

I opted to take PE next semester. In hindsight, it was a terrible mistake, but I just keep on going. My first period is English I, which is on the very first floor.

I hurry to my locker, grab my bag, and make my way down the stairs. We have shorter periods today because of the assembly, but still. I make my way into the classroom, only to find four other people there.

One of them being Simon.

I breathe out in relief and sit next to him. The desks, which are more like tables, are arranged so that we sit with a partner.

"Give me your schedule," he says, holding a hand out. I give him my slightly crumpled piece of paper with a sheepish look. He ignores the paper's current state and looks at the two.

"We have English, Spanish, and biology together."

"That's a comforting thought," I say. "Do you have a picture of Isabelle's?"

He does. After comparing ours, I see that we only have Algebra I and Econ together. I don't have a single class with my two friends together.

"This sucks."

"I know." He gives me a sympathetic look. "Pretty sweet, though. Starting high school."

"You're such a dork." But it _is _exciting. I give him a smile, roll my eyes, and turn to face the board. Two more people have rolled in, and the teacher is working on something at her desk. She looks at us, and then at a stack of papers on her desk, and then she looks at the time, clears her throat, and walks over to the front of the classroom.

"Hello, everyone. We're missing a few students, but they're probably making changes to their schedules. I'm Mrs. Herondale, and I'll be your English teacher this year. Today will just be an introductory class, in which I'll be handing out the syllabus, getting to know you, and giving you a bit of...well, an introduction, I guess, to the course."

As promised, she begins to hand out the syllabus, which includes a description of the course, the reading selections for the year, the units and themes that will be discussed, and the classroom rules.

"You need to hand this in with a signature from both you and one of your parents by Friday," she says, returning to the front of the room. "Firstly, we must discuss the classroom rules."

As we go through the list of DON'Ts, kids begin to groan. No eating food. No arriving late without a written excuse. No makeup work when absent unless one brings a written excuse—a medical one, that is. I don't really see what the big deal is, except the food one is kind of breaking my heart, but I'm thinking that I'll learn how to deal. Probably. Most likely.

After she's done discussing the syllabus, she realizes that we still have fifteen minutes left, so she moves a desk to the front of the classroom and sits on it. "Okay, so I'm gonna go through all of you again. Tell me your name and the name of a book you like."

I can practically feel the eye rolling all the way over here. Simon's first, and then it's my turn.

"I'm Simon," he says from beside me, "and I love _Dracula_."

I fight the urge to smile as the teacher compliments his choice and lands her eyes on me. "I'm Clary," I say, "and I like _Harry Potter_."

"Excellent choice," the teacher says, moving on to the next person. I listen as people list their books, from _Twilight _to the Bible to _The Hunger Games _to _The Giver _to _Jane Eyre_ to Stephen King books. By the time the bell rings, we all make our way out of the classroom, and I'm thinking that English might just be my favorite class.

And I can definitely live with the no eating thing.

The rest of my morning goes by without a lot of activity. I sat together with Isabelle during Algebra I, and then the three of us had lunch upstairs in the hallway of the third floor. We sat and talked about our classes, about the people we'd interacted with, etc. I want to ask Isabelle about Maia, but I figure that now isn't the time to go into details. Whatever. It's not like Maia and I are gonna interact much.

Well.

We _are _having lunch together.

Fuck.

Lunch rolls around at a quick pace. We go to the cafeteria, the very cafeteria in which Jace sat a few months ago. In which _I _sat a few months ago. It's insane how fast things can change. The last time I was in here, I could say with absolute certainty that he'd be waiting for me at the end of the day.

I try to keep the images from playing in my mind, but there they are. The two of us, holding hands for the first time. Sitting behind the building after finals. On the floor after my finals were done, when we shielded ourselves from people and just listened to music for what seemed like an eternity.

It doesn't seem nearly long enough now.

_Stop_, I tell myself. I order my food and make my way over to the table where Isabelle and Maia sit. Simon is still ordering his food, so I take the seat beside Isabelle and give her a tired smile.

"Hey," I say to the two of them.

"Hey," Maia replies. "How was your day?"

I fight the urge to call her a mom and reply with a fake smile plastered on my face. "Fine. How was yours?" I don't care, but whatever. And my day _had _been fine—up until I remembered Jace.

Everything's gone to shit after that.

"Boring," she says, rolling her eyes. "My French teacher went in speaking nothing but French, and it was just confusing."

"I'm taking _español_, but that sounds sucky."

"We've had no classes together so far." Maia reaches for something in her bag—her schedule, I realize. "Can I see yours?" She waves around the piece of paper for emphasis.

I take out my crumpled-up schedule and hand it over to her, not even bothering to feel (or look) apologetic.

"We have Ceramics together!" She beams at me and hands me the schedule. "That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Totally."

Simon plops down beside Maia, giving her a smile. "Hey."

"Hi," she says.

He turns to Isabelle. "As I was _saying _before the bell rang, mini cupcakes are a ridiculous invention. They're only tinier cupcakes, and they're made tiny so that people think that it's _adorable _and more affordable."

"You guys have the weirdest conversations," I tell them.

Isabelle flashes me a smile. "Always."

After the lunch bell rings, I go to my last two classes. Biology's pretty chill, and I sit at a table with three boys: Simon, Raphael (Santiago, as in the one who called Isabelle a slut), and Sebastian Verlac, who's actually _really_ attractive, but also a major douchebag.

I take Ceramics I with Maia, and she sits beside me in an uncomfortable, wooden stool. Our teacher's pretty chill, though, and the older students seem to be at ease around him, which makes me relax. He gives us an introduction to the course, defines the materials we'll be using, and talks about the different types of pieces we'll be doing. Our final will be a combination of a written test and a last piece, he says, and, when the bell rings, people seem to be excited about coming back tomorrow.

I meet Isabelle and Simon at our lockers. We get our books tomorrow, so there's really nothing to leave behind now, but we all find ourselves there anyway. The three of us walk downstairs. We part ways when it's time for us to walk to the bus stop, because Isabelle and Alec, her brother, take an entirely different one. Simon always comes over to my house, so the two of us walk over to my stop and wait.

"How was your day?" he asks me.

I shrug. "Fine. Do you happen to know why Isabelle's, like, forcing Maia on us?"

He frowns. "I didn't see it that way."

"I don't know. I could be wrong. It's just that Isabelle used to say that she disliked her _so _much, and now they're practically best friends."

"I guess I never noticed," Simon says after a beat. "But, at the same time, we're supposed to be making new friends, right?"

I've never really thought about needing more friends. I have all the friendship I need in Simon and Isabelle, and I never considered that the two of them might feel differently. I guess it makes sense, but still. "Sure."

"You're still my best friend," he tells me.

"I know." I do. It's nice to hear it, though.

"So...did you get any homework?"

"Nope."

"Please tell me we can play video games."

"Do you even need to ask?"

He grins at me, and we get on the bus as soon as it pulls over. It's always been a tradition for the two of us to play video games on the first day.

Maybe things haven't changed that much after all.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	7. All At Once

_Hey, guys! For the first Monday in weeks, I actually remembered to update without needing a reminder at 10pm. Anyway, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing, as always. You're awesome. :) Also, thanks to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, and LuckyAsLockhart, bc friendship. And, last but not least, thanks to all of you for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting this story! _

_I hope you like this chapter. _

_***Important AN at the bottom***_

* * *

_And all at once the crowd begins to sing  
__Sometimes  
We'd never know what's wrong without the pain  
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same _

"All At Once" - The Fray

* * *

In the few weeks that I've been a high school student, I've realized a lot of things.

The first is that people believe in new beginnings. Not everyone, but most people do. In the time that I've spent with Maia, both in and out of class, I've come to realize that she's changed a lot. Maybe I never really knew her, but I can tell from the fact that she actually _speaks_ to me that she's a different person. Which is nice. And good. Yup.

The second thing is that people don't really do labels anymore, thankfully. I'm no longer known as the emo girl (which was a ridiculous label to start with, but whatever). I'm just Clary. People come to me for help during Ceramics I, because I've proven to be good at it, and everyone's pretty friendly in and out of class, which is nice.

Thirdly, it's hard. It's hard to walk around the hallways without picturing Jace walking here, without reminding myself of how badly I fucked up. I know that it shouldn't affect me this much, especially since I only knew him for less than two months, but there is an emptiness in my chest and a pain in the back of my throat. I _miss _him. I miss who we were, who we could've been. I look at these hallways and I think of him and about us, and then it gets hard to keep walking.

It's hard to forget, too. Once I start thinking about him, every little detail reminds me of him. Sometimes a song will come on and I'll remember us listening to it, the two of us in our own little world, and then I can't listen to the song without my chest hurting. It's ridiculous, I know, but these are feelings I can't get rid of. I don't know how I'm still feeling this way after five months, but I do.

Because I'm ridiculous.

And guilty.

The crazy thing is that I still remember his phone number. I memorized it from the amount of times I typed it onto my phone. I'm really bad at saving people's phone numbers; I always think that I'll remember the person. And, with him, I did. I learned his phone number, and it's etched into my brain forever. I can't undo it. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, when I let myself _really _think about him, my hands will itch for my phone. I want to call him so badly, to explain everything and start anew, but I can't. It's not fair.

And he doesn't want to talk to me anyway.

Sometimes I feel too guilty to go about my everyday tasks. I fall asleep a lot in Econ, and I get too lazy to do my homework, so I'm scraping by with mediocre grades. I wish I could stay home and sleep, but nope. I have to go to school every day.

By the way, high school is pretty damn difficult.

"So," Isabelle says, "we're going over to Maia's house today, right?"

"And then to the movies." I nod.

"Simon's not going, though."

I snap my head up. "Why?"

We're supposed to be working on an Algebra I worksheet, but we can multitask. I think.

"I just sort of figured we'd get some girl time, you know?" She doesn't meet my eyes, choosing to focus on the math problem she's working on. "I love spending time with Simon, but I wanna hang out with just the two of you."

"Was this Maia's idea?"

Isabelle sighs. "No. I mean, she agreed, but it was mine."

"It just doesn't seem like you. You like spending time with Simon."

"Yeah, but it's all I've been doing lately."

I know that I'm getting defensive, but still. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No!" she whisper-shouts. "But I also wanna hang out with you two. Is that a crime now?"

"No," I say, slightly guilty at my overreaction. "I'm just not used to it, that's all."

"But you're still coming over?"

I smile as I work on the twelfth problem. "Of course."

* * *

Maia's "house" is actually a penthouse, and it is gorgeous.

I knew that she was from a family with a lot of money, but it didn't quite register as I got to know her at the very beginning of the semester. However, now that I can see her penthouse, I want to die. She's clearly got a _lot _of money, and her family very obviously loves to flaunt it.

"My parents are at work," she says, opening the door to her bedroom. "They don't come home until pretty late, so yeah."

I set down my two bags (my book bag and the one containing my clothing) on the floor. Her bedroom is _huge_. I mean, mine's, like, a third of hers. It has carpeted floors and a wonderful view of the city, and it's painted in soft colors. She has a lot of posters and paintings up, which is nice, and her desk is neat and orderly. It seems really nice. I think this is the kind of organized room my mom wants me to have.

"Wow," Isabelle says. "Your bedroom is _huge_. And you have your own bathroom!"

"I have to share mine with my idiot brother," I tell Maia.

"I'm an only child now, so."

"Now?" The words stumble out of my mouth without a warning. I know what she meant, and yet I still said it. I feel like an absolute idiot.

"My brother died about two years ago," Maia says.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Her voice is cold, hard. "He deserved everything that happened to him."

There is an awkward silence after that. I want to ask her what she means, but I also don't wanna get into that, so I just nod and look around.

"Are we watching any movies tonight?" Isabelle asks lightly.

"I have a bunch to choose from in my dad's study, and we also have Netflix."

When we make it inside the study, I have to hold in a gasp, because oh. My. God. Inside is the biggest movie collection I've ever seen. There are easily over a thousand movies in there, organized in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. They're beautiful. So, so beautiful. How will I ever scan all of these? Oh my God.

"Do you have _John Tucker Must Die_?"

Maia scoffs. "It's only one of my favorites."

The three of us decide to watch _John Tucker Must Die_ and _The Princess Bride_, but we're also playing board games. Thank God. I love board games, but Isabelle hates them. Maia hates them, too, but she said she'll make it fun.

I don't know what she means until the clock strikes seven and she locks us inside her room. She takes out her stack of board games and three bottles of alcohol.

Huh.

Okay.

Okay.

My mom is going to murder me.

"I don't even drink," Maia comments.

"You're right," Izzy says. "I brought those."

"You did _what_?"

"Relax, Clary." Isabelle opens one of the bottles and begins drinking. You can tell by the way that her face scrunches up that it is actually burning her throat, but she doesn't let it show. She just lets out a sigh and closes the bottle. "Let's start. Are we playing Monopoly?"

"Are you kidding? No," Maia says, shaking her head. "We're all gonna get alcohol poisoning if we do that."

I never thought I'd say this, but Maia is the voice of reason. "Yeah, Iz. Come on."

"Okay, okay. Parcheesi, then." She takes out the game and places it in the middle. "Okay, so we're taking a shot every time someone gets captured, and then another one every time someone makes it into their home."

"Oh God," I mutter. I've never had more than a few sips of alcohol, so this is going to be...well, I don't even wanna know. "Okay. Let's do this."

When I take my first shot, the alcohol feels as if it's burning my throat. I actually can't take it entirely. I end up taking it in sips. It makes my stomach warm, and I already feel as if I might puke. This is not good. This is totally, entirely, 100% not good. Oh my God. I'm gonna be sick. But I have to keep playing. Of course.

It doesn't really get better after my first shot. I still feel like shit after the fourth one, and I want to beg Isabelle to stop. I drink a lot of water in between shots and eat some apples, hoping that it'll help me not get drunk. Because I don't want to get drunk. I don't get the hype. I feel weird. By the time we end the game, I feel tired. So sleepy.

But I'm still conscious, so that's something.

"Hey," Maia says, but it comes out slurred. "Whatever happened between you and Jace, anyway?"

The question is enough to sober me up more. I drink some more water, enjoying the feeling of it and the relief it brings to my burning throat. "I don't wanna talk about that."

"Come _on_," Isabelle urges, "just tell her."

"Fine." I don't really need that much convincing, anyway. Too tired to put up a fight. "We were friends, and then he told me he liked me, but it was at a bad time. I mean, my mom's this controlling, manipulative bitch, so I had to stop talking to him. But I liked him." I sigh, feeling the tears burning in the back of my eyes. "I liked him more than I've ever liked a boy in my life. And then I told him that I never did like him, and I stopped talking to him."

"Why did you tell him that?" Maia frowns, evidently confused.

I close my eyes and struggle to open them. "Because I couldn't talk to him. Ever. It was the only way I could think of getting him to not talk to me."

"And it worked?"

"Yeah," I reply. I wish it hadn't, though. I want to say it out loud, but I can't. The words are lodged in my throat. I don't know why it's so difficult to say; I'm already pouring my heart out. Before I can speak, though, Isabelle takes the lead.

"She called him once," she blurts out. "Simon and I were there, and Jace was mad. Or hurt. He was sad, I think."

"That's sad," Maia says. "Jordan was his friend, you know? And Jordan says that Jace is a great guy, and that he misses him."

"I miss him too," I tell them, trying hard not to cry. "I want to call him. Can I call him?"

"No," Isabelle says, shaking her head rapidly. "He said not to call him."

"But if I could just _explain_—"

"Explain what? It happened for a reason, Clary," Isabelle tells me.

There are so many things I would explain, but I can't think of any of them right now. God. Even now, before all the actual damage, I know that drinking as much as I did was not a good idea. I'm only fourteen. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I'm only _fourteen_. Why am I getting drunk with Isabelle? My mom always makes me feel guilty about doing things behind her back, and here I am, drinking.

"Yeah. It happened because I was a coward, but I can't let her walk all over me like that. It was the hardest choice I've ever had to make. _God_," I say, "she's such a bitch."

"Oh God." Isabelle giggles. "You're so drunk."

"I'm not drunk! It's the truth!"

"Shhh!" Maia whisper-shouts, but her face is red from laughing. "We'll wake up my parents."

"It's _nine_," Isabelle reminds her.

"The movie!" Maia gets up unsteadily. "I'll go get it. Do you guys want me to make popcorn?"

We end up watching the movie with a bowl of half-burnt popcorn in Maia's lap. She sits in the middle, and we take sips of water and pieces of popcorn as we watch _John Tucker Must Die_. It's an awesome movie, really. An awesome, awesome movie.

But I'm too tired to stick around for the end.

* * *

_So this chapter was a bit complicated for me, because I was torn between thinking that they were too young to be drinking alcohol and, of course, knowing that many, many teenagers start drinking at this age, if not earlier. Though I think fourteen is too young to get drunk, it's a thing that happens. I think that the setting is important; for example, growing up in a small, conservative town won't influence you in the same way as living in a big city. I've lived in both, and I can say that, in the city, fourteen-year-olds going out to parties and getting drunk was totally no big deal. In fact, when my sister was twelve, she saw the very same thing. Although I think it's rare, there are many factors to consider: they live in a city, they're all dealing with their own shit + growing up, they want to be rebellious, they feel, in some unconscious level, the desire to see what all the talk about alcohol is about, and, most importantly, because it's worth repeating, **they're all dealing with their own shit. Especially Clary. **__When you hear that alcohol is going to help you and that it's a good way to forget, you're not always gonna quickly turn it away, especially when you don't know better. I know that fourteen is a young age to be getting drunk and whatnot, but it's something that happens, so I decided to go ahead and keep this chapter._

_Anyway, I hope that explains some of the reasoning behind this chapter. They're young and reckless and they're gonna make stupid choices for a little while, but we all grow up differently, and we all go through different experiences, and we cope in different ways. _

_Let me know what you thought of this chapter!_


	8. Hero

_Hello, guys! Here I am, updating on time, and I didn't even need a reminderrr. It feels pretty awesome, tbh. Anyway, thanks to my awesome beta, IWriteNaked, for, well, beta'ing this chapter and all of the other ones and also for your badass comments and the h9. I love them hard. Thanks to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, and LuckyAsLockhart for being rad. You three are the best. :D _

_Also, thanks to all of you for reading/reviewing/etc! And special thanks for being so understanding about the issue presented in the last chapter. I'm glad that no one responded with "noooo that would nEVER happen!" because, seriously, I would've died. Of secondhand embarrassment. Because really. Anyway, thanks again for being so supportive and awesome! I hope you like this chapter. :) _

* * *

_Let me go, _  
_I don't wanna be your hero, _  
_I don't wanna be a big man, _  
_I just wanna fight with everyone else. _

_Your masquerade, _  
_I don't wanna be a part of your parade, _  
_Everyone deserves a chance to _  
_Walk with everyone else. _

"Hero" by Family of the Year

* * *

There are few things I dread more than going out with my family.

Seriously. The other things would probably be, like, getting attacked by a shark, or a plane crash, or getting stabbed, or all of my bones breaking at once, or having to do an oral presentation for a class full of people I hate.

I put on my skinny jeans and layers of clothing. It's cold as hell outside, but we're going over to Luke's apartment for Thanksgiving, so I have to go, according to my mom. I top off my outfit with my warmest non-snow coat and take my bag before making my way out into the living room.

My brother's sitting on the couch, absentmindedly fiddling with his phone. He looks up when he sees me, and I can tell by the glint in his eyes that he's in a mood to screw with me. Fuuuun. This is gonna be great.

Out of all the people that teased me about being emo, my brother is the only one who continues to do so. His insults aren't very creative (they usually surface when I'm not wearing black or whenever he remembers that my hair used to cover my face), but they're annoying.

"What, no depressing t-shirt?" Jon raises an eyebrow.

"As opposed to the ones you have with half-naked women advertising products you can't even drink yet?" I retort.

"At least I don't look like I want to die all the time. No wonder you don't have a boyfriend."

"Right. It can't be because I don't wanna have a boyfriend."

"Well, it's definitely not that."

"Because girls are just _dying _to sleep with guys like you."

"I never said anything about sleeping with anybody."

I roll my eyes. "That's because you have the mental age of a five-year-old."

"A _non-suicidal _five-year-old, as opposed to you, Ginger."

"Piss off, Jon."

"Clary!" My mother picks this exact moment to walk out of her room. "If you use that language in front of Luke's family—or in front of me, for that matter—I swear to God—"

I shake my head. "Whatever, Mom."

She raises an eyebrow. "What did you say to me?"

I want to take it back, because she's obviously stressed or pissed or a dangerous mix of both, but I'm still mad at her for Jace. It was my choice, true, but it's her fault that I was forced to make it in the first place, which is what compels me to speak up.

"You heard me."

She walks over to me, and I take a few steps back, but the apartment is too small for me to do anything about it. She is too close for me to register anything but the sound of her hand connecting with my cheek. It burns; I feel my eyes water instantly, and I hate them for it. I don't feel like crying. I'm not sad. This isn't some great tragedy or anything. I'm mostly mad—yeah, at her, but also at myself.

"Don't speak to me like that again," she tells me, her tone stern. She stands up straight. "Hurry up; we're leaving."

_The only one taking forever to get ready is you_, I want to say, but my words are caught in my throat now. I just glare at her and follow her and Jon out the door. I want to lock myself up in my room and cry out of humiliation and leftover pain and shame and for everything she's ever done to me.

But we're already on our way to the subway station, so I just follow them, my headphones plugged in. I want to text Isabelle, but she's never really gotten it. She's only been my friend since the 5th grade, after I'd already been pretty much taking shit from my mom for years. Whenever I'd try to talk about it, she just told me not to, as if the subject made her uncomfortable or whatever. So I haven't done it in a long, long time, and I don't plan on doing it now. I don't wanna bother Simon, either, so I keep it all locked inside of me and just walk.

We arrive at Luke's apartment five minutes late, and my mom is a hysterical mess, which means that she lashes out towards _me _when I trip going up the stairs. _Yeah, Mom,_ I want to tell her. _Because I did that on purpose to fuck with you so that you'd be a whole nanosecond later than you already are to your stupid boyfriend's Thanksgiving thing_.

The truth is, in the almost eight months that he and my mom had been dating, I've never really hated Luke. He's pretty average, as far as boyfriends go. Even though he doesn't stand up to my mom when he _knows _how much of a shit she can be, he still shoots me looks of pity sometimes, which is something, I guess.

Everyone is super happy that we showed up. Despite my mom's belief that the world was going to fall apart and go to shit if we arrived even slightly late, everyone is incredibly nice and eager to meet me and Jon. We greet everyone with polite (but slightly uncomfortable) smiles. The only slightly likable person is Luke's sister, Amatis, who's here with her husband, Stephen Herondale. The two of them look super in love, and she actually looks fascinated all through his rant about corporate law and how he chose environmental law and blah, blah, blah. It's kind of boring, though he seems pretty cool, so I just sit there and nod and wish that I were anywhere but here.

So, basically, it's like any other Thursday.

* * *

It's Black Friday today, so I'm over at Simon's house while my mom and brother buy too many things that we _definitely _can't afford. Simon's mom isn't into buying things unless they're absolutely necessary to our daily lives or someone's birthday, which is the only reason he has a Wii and a laptop.

"Did you and Isabelle really get drunk?" he asks me, frowning.

"Don't remind me," I tell him, covering my face. "It was so, so, so stupid. I don't even like alcohol."

"Rebecca snuck me beer once," he says. "It tastes like urine."

I raise an eyebrow. "Have you tasted urine?"

He makes a face. "No, but I've smelled it."

"I agree about it tasting like urine, which is why we didn't drink beer."

"Then what _did _you drink?"

I groan. "Can we not talk about this?" My voice is muffled by the pillow.

"I just can't believe you got drunk already. Seriously, Clary, not to sound like a mom, but we're _fourteen_."

"You don't sound like a mom. It's somehow worse than that."

Simon frowns. "You're still my best friend, but why did you do it?"

I know that he isn't gonna drop the subject any time soon, so I swallow my annoyance and turn to him. "I don't know, Simon. I was pissed." _I still am pissed. I'm pissed because I still let my mom control everything, because I let her intimidate me into making the wrong choices. Because I hate her, and I hate myself. _"Can we just let it go and play some Mario Kart or something?"

He looks like he wants to say something, like the wheels in his head are still turning at what I just said, but he nods and hands me the controller for the Wii. "I'm gonna beat your ass, Fray."

"In your dreams, Lewis."

It's really hard to pinpoint the exact reason why it's so difficult for me to tell my two best friends about my problems. I know that they're judgmental, but, deep down, they love me. I know that, even if my feelings and thoughts would make their eyebrows rise, they'd still back me up after they got their heads out of their asses.

But I still can't bring myself to talk to them. I don't know. The things I feel and think sometimes seem so silly and unimportant in the grand scheme of things, to be honest. There's Isabelle, who doesn't give a damn about what people think of her and who doesn't care about boys, and Simon, who's clueless about everything. I love both of them, but, honestly, we're all so different that sometimes it feels like they'll never be able to fully understand me at all.

Despite that, I love them. I know that it's probably not what people think a friendship should be, all caring and love and no communication, but I love them. They're the ones that have stuck with me through thick and thin, even if we've never been fully supportive of each other in the process. I just think that it's weird that people are just expected to click and be there for each other. In one way or another, someone's bound to mess up eventually, and then it all goes to shit. And that's why I'm happy. We've all messed up at various times in our friendship, but we've never given up on each other.

Simon and I keep playing. We've always been able to do this for hours, to just play and get lost in the game. Sometimes we make conversations, but we always end up interrupting it to talk about the game, whether it's words of encouragement (if we're playing as a team) or curse words (in any scenario, really). It's the way I like to pass my time: with good company, entertainment, and the feeling that we don't need to fill the silence to be okay.

* * *

I would never admit this to my friends, but there are nights when I come dangerously close to dialing Jace's number just to see that he's okay.

It's ridiculous. I'm well aware that this isn't normal. I mean, I'm supposed to be moving on, but how can I move on from something I'm reminded of every day? Whenever I look at my mom, all I can think of is that she's the one who made me give up an important person, that she's the reason I don't have the kind of person that I can click with. When I go to school, I walk through the same halls he walked through, and I look at the people he used to hang out with, and there are daily reminders of him everywhere, and it makes it harder for me to go 2.5 seconds without wanting to hear his voice and feel his fingers intertwine with mine.

I know that it can't ever happen now. I fucked up. I'd like to think that I'd do things differently. Of course I would. If I had the choice to go back in time and pick all over again, I'd pick him a million times.

But, because we haven't invented time machines, I'm stuck in the present, where the thought of him keeps me up at night when I'm supposed to be sleeping. _In five hours_, I think to myself, _I'll be on the bus. I should sleep. Oh my God, I should sleep_. But I can't. I can't _sleep_. It's one of those nights. My chest feels empty, like someone has opened it up and taken out its contents, and now there's just a shell of a person inside my body. It's like I'm made up of nothing but empty space and air, and it hurts when I breathe, and it hurts when I think.

I just wanna sleep, but I can't close my eyes without wanting to fill the silence.

I listen to music, the sound of instrumental drums filling the otherwise silent room. I think it's gonna snow next week, but I'm not sure. I'm kind of hoping that it does, because the snow is my favorite thing about Christmas. I actually hate Christmas _day_, because, even though I get presents and good food, I'm forced to hang out with my family. Which is gross.

Anyway, the thought of Jace has been keeping me up like this for months now, and I know that it shouldn't. I just feel this extreme guilt, like whatever kind of pain he's in right now is my fault. Which...well, it is. But I don't know if I should be agonizing over it to the level that it keeps me from being able to _sleep_. Sleep, by the way, is such an important function. I should sleep. I feel my eyelids getting heavier, like they're finally ready to close, but then the image of him shows up in my mind and there goes my heart, galloping through my exhaustion, making me feel alert despite my physical tiredness.

I lie back on my bed, turning over to the window. It's not like I can actually see anything other than the building in front of mine, but it's more comforting than the confining walls of my bedroom. I'd like to think that I could dream big if I weren't restricted to what my mom allowed me to do. And I know it's wrong to let her do this to me, to let her suck the life out of me like this, but the rage that boils up inside of me whenever she acts that way towards me is nothing like the rage inside of her. She hates it when I stand up to her, when I try to be "smart" or whatever. Anyway, I want to stand up to her. I do. But what's that gonna do, anyway? It's just gonna land me in more trouble, like it always does. I always hope that something inside of her will snap and realize that she's treating her own child like a piece of garbage, but she never does, because she'd rather fuck me over than realize and admit that she's wrong.

I don't know who's paying attention to the things that I think, but take note: I will never be like Jocelyn.

A lot of kids say that about their parents, but I don't even feel close to her anymore. When I look at her, I just want to cry out of frustration. Part of the reason I stopped believing in God a few years ago was because I couldn't believe that someone who was supposed to be so kind would make _her _my mom. It must've been some sort of joke, and I realized that I didn't wanna believe in someone who enjoyed watching other people suffer.

Anyway, I don't wanna be like Jocelyn. I may not be able to stand up to her right now, and I may not be able to undo the things that she's done to me, but I have that to comfort me as I struggle to fall asleep for the millionth night in a row.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	9. Smile

_Hey, guys! I totally forgot that it was Monday, but here's the latest MS chapter! Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing (and for the "same" comment on the Solitaire line omg), and to my homies (spikeyhairgood, DeathCabForMari, and LuckyAsLockhart) for being so awesome and supportive and, to the latter, for making fun of my super obscure fics. I love you all. :) _

_Thanks to you guys for reading and for being so supportive and kind all the time! I love you. I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_Smile, the worst is yet to come  
__We'll be lucky if we ever see the sun  
__Got nowhere to go, we could be here for a while  
__But the future is forgiven, so smile_

_We're trying so hard to get it all right  
__But only feel lonely at the end of the night  
__And I wanna be somewhere away from this place  
__Yeah, somewhere just a little closer to grace_

"Smile" by Mikky Ekko

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Luke proposed to my mother.

I don't know the details, but he asked Jonathan and me about it a few days before, and we said it was cool. And now, on the actual day of Christmas, they're making us do family things. It's super gross. I just wanna be at home and do nothing. Maybe watch some Netflix. Hang with my friends. I want to be eighteen so that I don't feel legally obligated to do any of this crap.

"We're gonna be late!" Mom shouts. As per usual, we're going to Luke's apartment. I roll my eyes, put on my coat and scarf, get my bag, and walk out the door. My green beanie covers my ears, which would be otherwise frozen in the late December air.

Outside, it's snowing. Even though I've grown up with the cold, I still shiver as we walk to the subway station.

My mom is actually happy. She beams at us the entire subway ride, talking about how she knows that it's soon, but she's so happy. I'm happy that she's happy. She gives us a lot of shit, but it isn't as if her life's been perfect either. I don't know the details, but I know that she hates her childhood memories. And, also, our father left her when she was pregnant with me. So there's that.

It was one of the things that Jace and I shared, sort of. Neither one of us had a father figure in our lives. We talked about that a little bit, but we never went into too much detail, mostly because I _had _no details. I don't know anything about my mom and dad's relationship; all I know is that he hasn't been around since I can remember.

I shake away every thought of Jace and listen to the music coming from my headphones, choosing to focus on that rather than my glowing, ecstatic mother.

It's just the five of us at Luke's apartment, but that's where the (real) Christmas tree is, and it's where there's wine (for the parents) and presents (because of the actual tree thing) and a fireplace.

I take a real, deep breath when I go in, glad that I can breathe without feeling like my lungs are being stabbed by the too-real swords of the freezing cold weather.

When I take out my phone from my purse, I see that I have a bunch of messages from my friends. I open them, my hands still cold as shit from the outside.

From Isabelle, I have three messages. _Merry Christmas, Clary! Tell everyone in ur family I said so. :)_, _My parents are already being huge pains in the ass, _and _Goddamn it I want to emancipate myself already. _

From Simon, I have two messages. _I'm Jewish, but Merry Christmas! Tell everyone I say hello and that I hope they have a nice day full of presents from a fat fictional guy and whatnot. :P _and _Check the group chat, Clare. _

Confused, I click on our group chat. It has Maia, Isabelle, Simon, and myself.

Maia: Guys, I have to tell you something.  
Isabelle: What's up, Mai?  
Simon: Is this a girl thing?  
Isabelle: Shut up, Simon.  
Maia: Jordan and I broke up.  
Isabelle: Oh, Mai, I'm sorry.  
Simon: Why'd you break up?  
Maia: He has anger issues. Nothing bad ever happened, but he'd start picking arguments with me because other unrelated crap went wrong, and I got sick of it, so I told him to fuck off and that we weren't meant to be for each other. And it was the right thing, but it hurts like a damn bitch.

That's where the chat left off, which means that I have to pick it back up. I take a deep breath, type my message, and send it.

Clary: I'm really sorry, Mai. Of course it's gonna hurt like a bitch. You guys were really close, so it's gonna be terrible, even if you were the one to end it. But you did the right thing. It's really hard to own up to that, but you're doing it.  
Maia: Thanks, Clary. It means a lot. I know I was right in breaking up with him, but I love him so much, you know?  
Clary: That kind of thing heals with time. It's gonna be harder because of school, but we'll be here for you.  
Maia: Thanks again.

Crisis averted, I guess. Back in the real world, Mom and Luke are giggling in the kitchen as they try to make dinner, and Jon and I are sitting on the couch.

"Hey," Jon says, "when they get married, do we have to move in with him?"

I ponder this for a second. "It'd be closer to Simon."

"Just because you wanna be with your lover doesn't mean that it's a good thing to move here."

"Ew! He's not my lover. And, besides, I don't care whether we move or not. And neither should you. You're going to college in, like, two years."

He waves me off. "These two years are important, little sis."

I roll my eyes at him and play Solitaire until the amount of messages on the group chat becomes overwhelming.

Isabelle: What Clary said.  
Simon: When did you get good with words, Clary?  
Isabelle: Do tell us your secrets.  
Maia: I can't tell if this is sarcasm or genuine wonder. Either way, y'all are dicks.  
Isabelle: We're wonderful.  
Simon: You love us, Maia.  
Maia: You're dorks. Merry Christmas, by the way! :)  
Isabelle: Merry Christmas, you biiiiitch. :D  
Simon: Right back at you guys, even though, again, I really don't celebrate Christmas.  
Maia: You're missing out, Si.  
Isabelle: She's kidding. (He hates Christmas.)  
Simon: It's just so pointless.  
Clary: Oh my God, you guys, can't a brother play Solitaire without a billion messages on the group chat? (Also, Merry Christmas, and I love you.)

When Luke and Mom finish up with dinner, we eat in peace. They actually talk to us about things _without _making us feel like we haven't accomplished anything ever, which is nice. Luke's a bit better than Mom in most scenarios, but it's nice to see her catch up to his level of maturity and kindness in certain situations.

Don't get me wrong, though. He can still be an absolute dick when he needs to be, but it's not all the time, like my mother. She has certain rare moments when she's an actual human being, but, other than that, she's a demonic bitch from hell.

I used to tell her that I hated her a lot when I was younger. Up until I was eleven, when she'd do something that hurt me, I'd tell her that I hated her and that I wish I was never born and that God punished me by making her my mom. Sure, those were mean things to say, but the things she did were mean things to do.

At dinner, we talk about the wedding a bit. It'll be in around three-four months, because they want a late spring wedding, and it won't be big, because my mom doesn't get along with her family and Luke doesn't have that many living family members. That, in addition to their friends, adds up to about sixty people, give or take. Not bad for a wedding.

We move on to talking about school. Mom and Luke congratulate me on my grades, even though I got a C+ in Algebra I and a B- in Biology. I hear them talk to my brother about college while I absentmindedly eat. I'm not really hungry, but I know that, as a rule, I won't be excused from the table, so I just eat to pass the time and ignore the vibration of my phone every single time a new message shows up on the chat.

Eventually, I find a perfect excuse. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," I tell them, interrupting them mid-conversation.

I hurry to Luke's bathroom and take out the phone from my pocket, replying to the messages. While I'm in there, I find out that I _did _have to go to the bathroom, which is pretty neat, I guess.

I don't know why I start to think of him, but I wonder how Jace is spending his Christmas. I think a bit about sending him a quick message, but I know that he won't appreciate, regardless of how much I mean it. I shove my phone in my pocket, wash my hands, and make my way back to the table. All we do for the rest of the evening is talk, open presents, and drink hot chocolate.

And it feels nice.

* * *

On December 26th, I'm finally able to see my friends.

We meet up at Simon's apartment. His sister, Rebecca, is home for the holidays, and she's "babysitting" us. I say "babysitting" because she's actually making out with her boyfriend. They may be having sex, though. I don't know. We're trying to stay as far away from that area as possible.

The three of us who celebrate Christmas share our stories about the day. I tell them about how Mom and Luke were actually pretty decent, only annoying me once or twice, and Maia tells us about awkward silences and weird relatives she's forgotten all about already and will continue to do so forever. For a brief second, she tells us about the breakup, about how she broke up with the guy she loved _during Christmas_. Isabelle tells us that her brother accidentally came out as gay and that her mom drank a lot of wine.

Yup. Christmas. And that's just the stuff we know about.

Simon's room is only slightly bigger than mine. He took the bigger room in the apartment after Rebecca moved out, and it's still weird to go into the second room to the left instead of the first one. I sit cross-legged on his bed as he tells us of his very ordinary December 25th.

Music plays softly in the background, more of a mood setter or an afterthought than an actual necessity. Still, it feels nice, like it's meant to be played. "That's Not My Name" by The Ting Tings sounds different when it's played so low that it can barely be heard.

"Okay," Isabelle says, clapping her hands. "I can't wait anymore. Let's open up the presents."

We all got each other presents this year. For example, Simon, Isabelle, and I got Maia a present, and Maia, Simon, and I got Isabelle a present, and so on. Anyway, I get three presents, same as everyone else, and I'm super excited. A present per person, but picked collectively (and paid in the same manner). It's a fun, cheap idea for gifts, and I'm pumped for this.

Isabelle goes first. We got her some makeup, three CDs—_1989 _by Taylor Swift, _It's Not Me, It's You _by Lily Allen, and _AM _by Arctic Monkeys—and two poster things. The posters were drawings I made that we had photoshopped and printed. One of them is of a collection of knives, and the other is just a drawing blend of New York City and Paris. Her two favorite places. We also made her a card, but we told her to open it later.

"You guys," she says, smiling really hard, "are the best people. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome!" Maia's beaming. "Okay, my turn."

Maia was a little trickier, because we don't know her as much as we know each other, so we had Jordan's help there (before the breakup, of course). It turns out that Maia really likes video games and stuff, so I made her a Zelda poster, we bought her a video game, and her favorite band's EP. We don't actually know the band; that part was all Jordan.

It makes me sad to see that they've had to break up. I see why it's necessary, but I know that she's miserable. She smiles and thanks us for the gifts, and she seems a little perky, even, but I know that she's sad. I don't let that realization come to light, however; I just smile and play along.

It's Simon's turn. We got him two video games, a _Game of Thrones _bobblehead (I think it's a Tyrion one?), and a few band t-shirts and rubber bands. He thanks us with hugs and everything, and I'm really happy to see him enjoying his present so vivaciously.

It's finally time for me to open my presents. I start unwrapping them, and then Isabelle starts speaking.

"It was really hard to figure out what to get you," Izzy says. "This year's been different than most, and I know that things have happened, so we wanted to get you a different type of gift and stuff. Anyway, if you hate it, we can return it."

They got me some of the usual stuff. A book—Amy Poehler's _Yes Please_—and some new pencils. Two CDs. And then I found the notebooks.

"One of them's just a sketchbook," Simon says. "But the other one's a notebook. Just so you can keep a log of everything."

"Like what?" I ask.

"Your thoughts, or your goals, or your to-do list. I don't know. We're not the easiest to talk to," he replies, "but I hope that this thing helps."

Though I don't feel, like, moved to tears or anything, this is still a pretty huge, sweet gesture. I reach over and hug all three of them, not caring that Simon and Iz had a _way _bigger say in this than Maia, because who cares? I love them. I mean, it's not something that I'd admit out loud, but I love all of them—even Maia, who I thought I'd hate until the end of my days. Sure, she _did _drop Jordan like a hot potato, but there's a reason behind it. And she can be kind of bitchy and rude, but she can also be nice and supportive. And she's open-minded. I don't know, but the positives definitely outweigh the negatives.

And she's a pretty good person to talk to.

The three of us play Clue, one of our favorite games. We play until our eyelids droop, and then we're taking a quick nap, the sound of moaning and music awkwardly filling the silence.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	10. Stomach Tied in Knots

_Hey, guys! So this chapter's pretty exciting, because it's based on a (very real) experience I had when I was about Clary's age. It was terrible. 0/10, do not recommend. Also, I'm sorry for the delay in replying to your reviews, but I'm currently on my college road trip. I'm in Maryland until Wednesday morning, but I was in New York City for a few days (and I was so sad to leave, because it's my favorite city), and yesterday I was in Pittsburgh. Anyway, I got to visit Westchester (where Jace lives in MS), Brooklyn, and White Plains (which is basically Westchester Country, I think, and also where Coming Home is set, if any of you have read that). It was so much fun! This trip has been awesome, and I can't wait to visit the three universities I have left and make my decision. :D _

_Anywaaaay, thanks to my superawesomefantastic beta, IWriteNaked, for beta'ing this chapter. And, as always, thanks to spikeyhairgood, DeathCabForMari, and LuckyAsLockhart for being my homies. **Also, you guys should check out LuckyAsLockhart's **_**_new one-shots. _**_Just sayin'. _

_Thanks for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following, and I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_Oh, my stomach's tied in knots  
__I'm afraid of what I'll find if I see you again tonight  
__Ooh ooh  
__See the problem isn't you, it's me, I know  
__I do this every single time  
__I'll push you away (ooh)  
__I get so afraid, oh, no_

_And I can't live without you now_  
_Oh, oh_  
_I can't even live with myself_  
_Oh, oh, oh_  
_And I can't live without you now_  
_Oh, oh_  
_And I don't want nobody else_  
_Oh, oh, oh_

"Stomach Tied in Knots" - Sleeping With Sirens

* * *

There are pretty few things in life that surprise me as much as my mother and Luke's announcement tonight.

It's the end of January, and the new year has passed. I've been trying to get my shit together as part of my resolutions, but it's hard to get it together when there are constant reminders of the things I've lost. Maia feels the same way, too, after her breakup with Jordan and whatnot. But there's a huge difference between the two of us: she chose to break up with him, whereas I was forced to end something that was barely beginning with Jace. Either way, though, the two of us feel each other's helplessness, and we're trying to help each other get through this.

That doesn't mean that we don't argue, though.

She is explosive in a different way than I am, so we argue in a heated way that makes me so mad I often wish I'd never befriended her in the first place. There are little things about her that annoy me, too, but she's my friend. We bring each other back to reality when it needs to be done. In the six months that I've known her, we've grown incredibly close.

Anyway, while all of that has been happening, I've been trying to reprioritize school and my state of mind and whatnot, but it's hard to do that when your parents drop a bomb like this one on you.

"As you know," Luke had said moments earlier, "my sister, Amatis, is expecting a child with Stephen." He waited for our nod before continuing. "Well, the two of them have decided that they don't want to raise their child in the city, so they've decided to move to the suburbs. Anyway, they've bought a house and everything, and your mom and I thought it would be a good idea to help them move, especially since Amatis is pregnant."

"Where'd they move to?" Jon asks.

"Westchester."

"And when are we going?" I ask, my voice feeling like an empty shell of what it usually is.

"Tomorrow."

That's what made me bolt to my room and lock myself there.

Because Jace Wayland lives in Westchester.

Someone knocks on my door a few seconds later. So much for my dramatic exit. I feel like I can't breathe. "Clary?" my mom asks.

"Mom, I don't wanna go."

"You have to. You don't have to help us unpack, but you can't stay here alone."

Deep breathing. One, two, three, four, five…

Deep breathing. In and out. Counting to ten, and then starting over. I can do this.

I open the door and look at my mother's face. "I just don't wanna go. Can't I stay with Simon?"

"Clary, we want the two of you to come. It's a way to bond with the family."

"I don't wanna bond with the family," I tell her. "I wanna stay home."

"It's not optional," she says, her tone harsher this time. I'm sensing that she's tired of arguing with me. Well, I'm tired of arguing with _her_, too. "You're coming, and that's final. We leave at one in the afternoon."

I roll my eyes and close the door, making sure it's safely locked before I throw myself on the bed and wrap the covers around me.

Frick on a stick with a brick, I'm going to Westchester.

I know that telling Isabelle and Simon is out of the question. Although the two of them have been doing the best to support me in the few times I've brought up the subject, I also know that it doesn't exactly make them comfortable to imagine me with a guy of his reputation and stuff. They just don't like the idea of him with me.

But that's just it. They don't like the _idea _of him. They never held a conversation with him, never tried to get to know him, and now it's a sensitive topic.

I know that Maia would understand, so I send her a quick message.

Clary: Help! Jace situation thing is happening.

She replied quickly.

Maia: What's up, Clary?  
Clary: So, two things: I'm messaging you separately bc you know Si and Iz get pissy about the topic of Jace. The second thing: Jace lives in Westchester. I'm going to Westchester tomorrow 2 help my aunt move in. Kill me.  
Maia: I totally get u. Also, holy mother of God, tell me ur kidding.  
Clary: is this sarcasm?  
Maia: No...but even if it were, I was just gonna tell u that it doesn't matter. The chances of u running into him are really slim.  
Clary: I feel like I'm gonna throw up, like you do when you think about Jordan being in the same building as you.  
Maia: Clary, that's a building. This is an entire county. You're gonna be fine.  
Clary: I'm freaking out, Maia! I know that it's irrational, but I'm freaking out.  
Maia: I can understand it. Wait, so does this mean ur missing school?  
Clary: Probably leaving early. Mom said we leave the city at one, so yeah, I guess.  
Maia: let me know! good luck, Clare.  
Clary: Thanks, Mai. I'll talk to you tomorrow.  
Maia: Goodnight

I turn off the lights, hoping that it'll dull the headache that's begun forming. I shove my phone under my pillow and try to sleep, ignoring the worst-case scenarios playing in the back of my mind like a broken tape.

* * *

On the way to Westchester, I feel like I'm gonna die.

Part of that has to do because we had a pop quiz in Algebra I just before Mom and Luke picked me up. I have a C- in the class, which is pretty much kicking my ass. It _may _have to do something with the fact that I fall asleep all the time and spend the time that I'm conscious during class drawing/doodling/talking to people/not paying attention at all to what my (extremely tall) teacher says.

So I may have failed my pop quiz, but the thought of that isn't nearly as unsettling as the thought of being in the same county as Jace. I know I'm being ridiculous—it's a whole county; the chances of running into him are slim to none—but it's like every inch of my body responds to growing closer to him. I try to calm myself. _You're being ridiculous_.

But there's no reasoning with me.

I open the group chat.

Maia: Are you there yet?  
Isabelle: Probably not, Maia. But also, THAT MATH QUIZ. FUCK.  
Clary: SAME. I'm dying. It's a mix of Jace and the pop quiz at this point, tbh. I feel like I might pass out of stress and exhaustion.  
Isabelle: What the fuck? That quiz. Just. Ugh. I'm so mad, dude. So mad.  
Clary: I know, right? I hate Algebra I.  
Maia: I'm taking Econ, guys. Pray for me.  
Clary: Pray for US.  
Isabelle: Seriously, Maia, you lucky bastard.  
Clary: We hate you.  
Clary: (We don't hate you.)  
Maia: Thanks for the much-needed clarification, Clary.

I take a glance at my new schedule, which I have a picture of on my phone. I try to remember if I have any homework, but I can't.

Homeroom: Mr. Starkweather  
English I  
Algebra I  
Snack  
World History I  
Health  
Spanish I  
Lunch  
Biology  
Drama

I stick to listening to the music coming from my headphones, setting down my phone. We're passing a blur of trees out the window. I'm sitting by myself, but my mom and Luke are sitting in front of me. I don't know where exactly Jon is. I'm just glad that none of them is able to see me as I think about everything and play impossible scenarios in my head.

* * *

Amatis and Stephen bought a two-story house in a cul-de-sac. I can literally walk to the high school without, you know, dying, and everything's so _green_. It's kind of nice.

I know that my mother's in love with the ambiance as soon as we arrive at their house and they offer us lemonade. "Sorry," Amatis says. "It's the only thing we've made so far. We've barely even grocery shopped, and we've been sleeping on mattresses for two days."

My mom frowns. "Amatis, you know that's not good for you."

She waves her future sister-in-law off. "Jo, I'm three months pregnant. It's not the end of the world."

"Take care of yourself," Luke says, patting her gently on her shoulder. "The three of us guys are gonna start unpacking, but you three should go to the mall."

"That sounds fun," Mom says to Amatis. "Come with us to the mall. You need a break from all of this."

My future aunt lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes. "Fine, fine, fine. But I walk slowly, so brace yourself."

"I'll let you drive." Mom makes a face. "I haven't driven a car in forever."

"That's a perk of living in the city."

"I know, right?" She laughs. "Clary, are you coming?"

"Sure," I say, realizing that I have absolutely nothing better to do. And, if I stayed behind, there was a huge chance that I'd be forced to participate in arduous physical activity. Naturally, I chose to go.

The drive is full of chatter from the two old friends. They'd worked together as teachers for eight years, so they'd been friends for a while, and my mom knew Luke from high school, even though the two had lost touch after college started. The two of them had shared a few words here and there at dinners and parties whenever they ran into each other, but, one day, Amatis invited her to dinner with her then-boyfriend Stephen and brother Luke, and here we are.

I listen to music the entire time, watching as drops of water fall from the sky. It begins to rain pretty heavily, giving my music a really nice background. I look out the window, getting lost in my thoughts. I'm not sure what kind of landscape we're passing by anymore, because I'm not really _there_. I'm thinking about a million things all at once as I try to subdue my nerves.

We get out of the car, the three of us huddling under one umbrella. I've noticed that my mom seems a lot happier now that she's around old friends, joking away and reminiscing and gossiping and whatnot.

"Can I just hang out at Barnes and Noble until you guys are ready to leave?"

Mom nods. "Sure. Here," she says, pulling a twenty and a ten from her wallet. "I'll call you when I'm done."

"Okay," I say, walking in the opposite direction.

When I walk into the bookstore, I notice that everyone is entirely wrapped up in their own thing. There are people standing around, looking through the books and movies and CDs. Some of them are standing by themselves, scanning the shelves for interesting titles. Others aren't alone, and they often suggest titles to one another and laugh when they find funny or ridiculous ones. It's kind of nice to watch the way people interact with each other when they think no one else is looking.

I move towards the middle of the bookstore. To the left are the YA and comics sections, which is where I wanna go. They're right next to the stairs that lead to the first floor. I don't know why I feel so anxious, but, at the same time, I do. I just hate going out.

I turn to the left, heading to my preferred section—

—and stop dead in my tracks.

Because right there, accompanied by two boys and a girl, is Jace Wayland.

Time slows down for a second, as if I were living life in slow motion. They're scanning the shelves. One of the boys is holding up a comic book, while the rest of the group is looking for something to read. He looks so familiar that it makes me feel like I'm being stabbed in the chest a billion times.

So I bolt.

I head for the stairs so fast that I feel like I might trip and fall—which I almost do, but I keep going down, trying to think past the loud beating of my heart against my ribcage. I hold my bag close to my side, scared that it might slide off my shoulder, seeing as I'm running like I never have before. I run until I reach the back entrance, the one farthest away from Jace. I sit down in a corner, my back pressed up against one of the shelves. Thankfully, this area's pretty empty, so I let myself breathe. I take deep, deep breaths, hoping that I'll recover the oxygen I lost on my way here.

This is impossible.

Out of all the things that could've happened today, this just _had _to be the one. Godfuckingdamnit. I'm not gonna be able to get up until Mom and Amatis call me. Seriously, I'm paralyzed by fear and anxiety and everything I've left buried inside me for months.

Hands shaking, I pull my phone out of my bag and enter the group chat.

Clary: you guys won't believe what happened  
Isabelle: what?  
Clary: I ran into Jace  
Clary: and by "ran into," I mean I saw him and panicked and ran  
Clary: so I'm sitting in the farthest corner  
Clary: send help  
Maia: Okay, okay, you're okay.  
Isabelle: omg

Seconds later, my phone vibrates, indicating that there's a call. Surprise, surprise, it's Isabelle. I'm expecting some seriously reassuring words, but it's not what I get at all.

"So tell me everything."

And I do. I tell her about coming to Westchester and the anxiety that has been coursing through my veins and bottling up in there since the moment I found out about my trip to here. I tell her about getting out of the car and coming up here to the bookstore, and about the entrance, and about spotting him, talking to his friends, and how I was seconds from falling apart as I ran like my life depended on it.

I tell her everything.

"Wow," she says, taking a breath. "So you're hiding behind bookshelves."

"Yup," I reply, smiling at the guy who looks down at me with confusion all over his face. "I don't know what to do, Iz. I mean, he's right there. I never really thought I'd get this close again."

"What did you picture doing in this scenario?"

I'm a bit surprised that she's asking, but I answer. "I don't know. I guess, like, I'd go up to him, and I'd spill my guts out, and I'd tell him that I'm sorry, and he'd actually forgive me." I lean back again. "It's so dumb."

"It's a little corny," Isabelle agrees. "But why don't you do it?"

"Because, in real life, he would never forgive me."

"You don't know until you try," she tells me.

"Why are you being so supportive all of a sudden?"

It takes her a second to answer. "I didn't particularly approve of him, as you know, but seeing you mope about this for so long has made me realize that, even though I dislike him, I need to suck it up and try it your way for a bit." She takes a breath. "He made you happy. Obviously. That's all that matters right now."

"It's a little late for the things that matter," I reply. "There's nothing I can do. He's up there with his friends, and I'm down here, and I don't think I could bring myself to talk to him again."

"Why not?" she asks.

I feel anxiety rising up inside me just thinking about it. "I don't think I could say anything to him without dying on the inside."

She sighs. "I hate to encourage this, but you'll never know what could have been unless you talk to him."

"He won't talk to me," I remind her.

"Maybe not a few months ago, but it's been, like, nine months, so I think you'll be fine."

"I can't."

"Then you're gonna have to live with this feeling," Isabelle snaps. "I'm sorry, but _damn_, Clary, make up your mind. I'm trying to be supportive, but you need to make a choice."

Her words hit me hard. "Do you really think it's that easy to make a choice like this?"

"What's the worst thing that could happen?"

I hesitate for a second before answering. "He could hate me even more, and I don't think I can live with that."

The thing with Isabelle is that she doesn't really care what everyone else thinks about her. "So what?" she asks. "So he hates you. He's just one guy, Clary."

"It's not that simple," I tell her. "I...care about him."

"You _care _about him?"

"Fine," I huff. "I like him."

"After almost nine months?"

"Pretty much."

Isabelle lets out a breath. "I think you're hanging on to the _idea _of him."

"Because you just know _so _much about relationships," I blurt out. My eyes widen as I realize what I've said, but it's too late to stop the words that have already stumbled carelessly out of my big, fat mouth.

"Clary, I come from a family with a bunch of dysfunctional relationships. I've been friends with Maia through all of her bullshit with Jordan, and I've seen you get through this. I think that you just like the way he made you feel."

"Well, duh, you idiot! Because I liked him!"

"It's not the same thing."

"I liked him, Isabelle. I still do."

"Look, I have to go study, but text me if you're alive in a few hours, okay?"

"Fine," I say, hanging up the phone before she gets the chance to.

I'm so riled up. I can't believe that Isabelle thinks she knows how I feel better than I do. I mean, I'm well aware that liking the way someone makes you feel isn't the same as liking them, but I _do _like Jace. I like how nice and supportive he is, how calming his presence can be, the confidence he gives me. I like being with him, so screw Isabelle and everyone else.

I like him.

Which is exactly why I stay down here, hidden in a corner, until my mother calls me to leave.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	11. Collide

_Heyoooo, guys. So this week has been an eventful one. I continued my search for colleges, which was pretty hectic, and went through about a billion life crises in the span of seven or so days, but I finally picked a college! I'm paying my enrollment fee today and applying for housing as soon as the portal starts effing working (it's being a pain right now). Anyway, that whole college search/applying/deciding has been really exhausting and stressful and nerve wracking (and it still kind of is!), but it's all exciting nonetheless, and I'm happy that I'm moving on to bigger, better things. (And I do mean bigger, because, oh my GOD, I chose a gigantic school.) Anywhoooo, thank you to IWriteNaked for beta'ing this chapter AND choosing the song (which I loved!) and for being super supportive and being there for me throughout this whole process. :) Also, thanks to my homies, DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, and LuckyAsLockhart for always, always, always being there for me and listening to me go through my crises during the time we've known each other. I love you allll. My squad is amazing. Also, additional shoutout to ViolentRaccoon for being, like, the loveliest person ever. Her messages make me happy 24/7. _

_I do want to say something before this rant stops, though. A few people messaged me last chapter about how Clary was annoying and frustrating and all of that, which is fine, because she is, but I hope that you also understand that she's gone through physical/verbal abuse from her mom, who also raised her by herself, and that she has social anxiety and lack of confidence and is scared of hurting other people, especially people she cares about, so she's not avoiding Jace just 'cause she feels like it. Also, **she's 14**, so she has a long way to go before she grows into the person that she will be by the end of the story. These are all very necessary situations in order for her to form her own identity and her own personality. They're important, even when they might just seem like frustrating plot points and whatever. She's insecure, and she's scared, and that's why she acts the way she does. You can still find her annoying, sure, but also understand that her personality is a reflection of the issues she's faced throughout her life. _

_That was hella long, but thanks for reading that if you did! Also, of course, thanks to the people who read this story and review it and favorite it and follow it. You guys are awesome! :) _

_I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_And you be the reason  
I'll be the rhyme  
We've both got way too much ahead  
To worry about what we left behind  
So you keep the beat  
We'll stay on time  
And fill the pages with just how both our words collide_

"Collide" - Go Radio

* * *

"I'm gonna fail," I tell Simon, sighing loudly before closing the Algebra I book and falling back against my pillows. "And I find myself not caring. Is this normal?"

"You care," he reminds me, lying down beside me. "You're just tired."

"The test is tomorrow."

"Well, maybe you will fail."

"I did terribly this year." I shake my head. "It's been a nightmare."

"You'll be okay."

"I'm failing Drama, Simon!"

"And math."

I glare at him. "You're not helping."

He lets out a sigh. "Don't worry. Your life may be an academic disaster, but I have a dilemma."

I roll my eyes, trying to hide my interest. Eventually, though, curiosity gets the best of me. "What's up?"

"You have to swear on your life and your artistic talent that you won't tell anyone," he says, holding up a pinky. "Pinky swear, Clary Fray."

I link my pinky through his. "You're ridiculous."

"I like Isabelle," Simon blurts out.

"I know," I say. "I vaguely remember you telling me this, like, a year ago."

"Well, I still like her."

"Are you gonna do something about it?"

He shrugs. "I don't know if I should. Isabelle is...Isabelle."

In my mind, I agree with him. It isn't that I don't think he's beyond worthy of her, because I do. But, the truth is, at this point in time, she would never go for him. For one, she still has this notion that relationships just drag people down and prevent them from being happy. And, secondly, there's also the whole thing with her being a total babe and Simon being a more unconventional, dorky kind of attractive.

But I can't say those things to him. He's my best friend. "You'll never know until you try," I tell him.

"What if I make things awkward?"

"I'll help you make them right again," I say.

Simon repositions himself and lets out a sigh. "I'll think about it."

"That's good." I close my eyes. "I'm so ready for this year to end."

"You've been saying that for weeks," he teases.

"Well, that's how long I've been ready."

Simon snorts. "Is this how you're gonna be every year?"

I shake my head. "I hope not. It's just that this year has been especially sucky, you know? I've been trying to get over a lot of things and start anew, but some things are hard to shake off."

"You've been doing a good job," he says. "Sure, you're falling behind at school, and that kind of sucks, but you still have three more years to make up for it, right?"

I nod, trying to find some solace in his words. I mean, it has been a hard year. It's mostly because I experienced new things, and not all of them were pleasant. Some of them were emotionally difficult, long-term types of things, and it's taken me all year to get back on my feet.

"Okay." With a sudden movement, Simon sits up. "Let's do math, then."

We do math until it's dark outside, until I hear my mom come into the house and yell out, "Is anyone home?!"

"One sec," I say to Simon, rubbing my eyelids. I'm gonna pass out. I'm definitely gonna pass out. I exit my room and enter the living room/kitchen area, where my mom stands. "I'm here. Didn't wanna yell."

"Is Simon here?"

I nod. "He's helping me with math."

"Good. I know you're not doing well," Jocelyn says, shaking her head. "Is this because of my engagement with Luke? Because I—"

"No!" I shake my head vehemently until I'm sure she's positive that it is not, indeed, her engagement. "No, Mom. I'm just not getting it, but Simon's been helping out."

She sighs, placing a hand on her waist. "Well, I'm glad that you're getting help, at least. Where's Elaine?" She frowns upon saying Simon's mother's name.

I shrug. "I'll ask Simon."

"Let me know. I'm making dinner soon, by the way, and Luke isn't coming over today. He got held up at work."

I walk inside my room, wondering how Luke can stand working until so late at night. It's already almost seven, which is late enough as it is, and he's still at work? That's insane.

"Yo, Simon, is your mom picking you up?"

He nods. "She'll be here before nine, probably."

I frown, much like my mom had done earlier. "Why?"

"She got caught up at work." He flips through the pages of the Algebra I textbook. "Okay, I think we're done for today. Do you wanna chill until my mom gets here?"

"Totally. Give me a sec, though." I walk back out of my room and into my mother's to deliver the news that Simon will, indeed, be picked up by his mother.

"Invite him to dinner," she says, emerging from her bathroom. "I'm about to start making it, and it should take about half an hour."

"Sure," I tell her. I ask Simon about the dinner, to which he responds with an enthusiastic, "Hell yes!"

Simon, like all normal people, loves food.

But he especially loves dinner.

We watch a few episodes of Scrubs until Mom calls out our names, announcing that dinner's ready. Even though we don't eat together, she insists that we eat outside of our rooms, so Simon and I position ourselves on the couch and decide to watch cartoons while we eat.

_Courage the Cowardly Dog_ reruns are playing on Cartoon Network, so we watch those while we eat, and I remember when my brother used to scare the shit out of me by daring me to watch those after Mom had gone to bed. I usually ended up sleeping with her because I was too scared to do so on my own.

After we finish eating dinner, Simon's mom calls him, and we say goodbye. He tells me that I'll be okay for my test, that I have the ability to perform well, but I'm not sure if I can. There's so much pressure on me right now—on doing well emotionally, and at school, and with my personal life, and with my image, and with my family, and with my friends, and with building my future—that it's overwhelming to focus on a single math test. I go back into my room after making sure that Simon's safely with his mom, freaking out over the various things that could go wrong if I fail this test.

I could fail math.

I could fail high school.

Oh my God.

And this is why I decide that I'm staying up all night long to read and do problems and make sure I ace the shit out of that test.

* * *

After my Algebra I test, I feel like I'm going to be okay, actually. Isabelle seems to share the sentiment; even though she's no Simon when it comes to math, she can get by with an average grade and minimal study time.

We have snack now, and we meet up with Simon by our lockers. I open mine up and dump my English textbook in there, taking out my history, Spanish, and Economics books and placing them in my heavy backpack.

"Hey, Iz," I hear Simon say, "could I talk to you alone for a sec?"

I look over to where she stands, struggling to fit one of her books into her bag. "Sure." After winning the battle, she slams her locker door and slings her back over her shoulder. "Let's go drop off our bags, and we can meet Clary back by our lockers?" She looks at the two of us as she says this.

"I don't mind," I say. "I have some unfinished Spanish homework to do anyway."

"Cool," she replies. "Let's go, then."

I sit cross-legged on the floor, pulling out my Spanish book and notebook. After five minutes of Googling the answers, I put everything back where it was and take my bag to the Spanish room, greeting the teacher with a smile as if I didn't procrastinate her homework so hard that I finished it about a minute before I arrived at her classroom. After taking my snack from my bag, I go back to our lockers, where Isabelle and Simon wait.

The air is different, I notice. There's a bit of awkwardness now, and I realize that things probably went about as well as I expected them to. Frick on a stick.

"I have to go get a snack," Simon tells me, pointing out the fact that the two of us already have our own snacks. "I'll see you guys around."

We say goodbye, and I turn to her as soon as he's out of earshot. "What happened?"

She shrugs. "I don't know! Like, out of nowhere, he asks me out, right? And I've never really thought of Simon that way, so I told him to give me some time to think about it, and I think I made things awkward, and I don't know what to do, and—"

"Okay," I interrupt her. "Isabelle Lightwood, for the love of God and everything that's holy, breathe. You need oxygen to live, and you're not getting enough of it right now." The two of us sit cross-legged on the floor, and I watch as she takes in a few breaths to appease me. "Good. Alright, look, Simon likes you, but it's okay if you need some time. This was sudden. But I hope you know that it doesn't have to be awkward. Don't say yes to him because you're scared of ruining it, because you're still his best friend, and he's still yours. No matter what."

She nods rapidly. "It's true. We're best friends, but I just keep wondering if I should see it differently. I mean, he likes me, right? And I don't not like him, but I don't know if I feel a romantic attraction towards him. I've never liked guys for long periods of time."

"How do you feel?"

Isabelle looks frazzled. "I don't know. I don't feel about him the same way I do about you, but I thought that it was just because he was a boy. I'm not too sure anymore. I think I may like him, but I need some time to figure it out."

"Then take it," I say as gently as I can. "Honestly, Simon will have no problem with that."

She nods. "Good."

The two of us sit there, talking about the Algebra I test and eating our respective snacks, until the bell rings.

Simon and I meet up in Spanish. "What'd she say to you?" he asks me, looking about as frantic as Izzy did.

"That she needed time, but that she was scared you'd get the wrong idea," I reply. "She's just confused and scared. She doesn't want things to be awkward between the two of you."

He rolls his eyes. "She's ridiculous. She's my best friend—along with you, of course—so I'd never let it get awkward, and neither would she."

"That's what I told her. I think I calmed her down a bit, but this'll take some time, Lewis."

"I've got tons of that."

I smile at him. "I'm glad you mustered up the courage to tell her how you feel. That must've been hard."

"I was shaking and sweating and dying," he replies, nodding in agreement. "But I did it, which is what matters."

"Now we just have to wait."

"Yup." He pauses. "I'm gonna die."

"You're such a drama queen. You're gonna be fine."

Before he can repudiate my claim, our Spanish teacher walks into the classroom and begins her class by checking the homework, which I, of course, have ready and done.

* * *

I go over to Isabelle's house after school. We decided to have a sleepover on account of being done with this math test and needing some one-on-one time, so my mother agreed, but only after knowing that we planned it on a Friday.

"I'm still hung up on the Simon thing," Isabelle says, taking a freshly popped bag of popcorn out of the microwave. I watch as she opens it and pours it into the pink bowl she's picked out. "I mean, he deserves an answer, but I just don't have one."

"You two are so ridiculously stubborn," I tell her, taking some popcorn and eating it one by one. "Seriously, Isabelle, he's fine with giving you time. He gets that these things need to be thought through, and he told me that he'll never stop being your best friend, even if you choose not to date him."

She pouts and sinks down onto the couch. "I just feel like there's no margin for error, you know? Once I make a choice, I can't go back on my word."

I look at her for a second, aware of my own dramatics, and shake my head. "You're so dumb, Izzy." At her taken aback expression, I scoff. "Of course you can fuck up, you absolute plastic bag."

She raises an eyebrow. "Plastic bag?"

I shrug. "Anyway, if you want to take back your word after you decide, I'm sure he'll be fine with it. Just as long as you don't do it because you think it's fun to fuck around with his feelings." I sigh, taking a sip of my soda. "He gets it, Izzy. I promise."

After going back and forth a few more times and talking about her worries, we settle on watching _10 Things I Hate About You_, one of our favorite movies of all time. Throughout the movie, I'm left thinking about Isabelle and the choice she might end up making. It's a tough choice, but she can do this. She can take back whatever she's done, just as long as Simon's the kind of guy who'd give her a second chance. And he is. I smile at the fact that I know that with a deep sense of security and return to the movie, my mind entirely ready to watch it by the time Patrick and Kat are playing paintball.

"His eyes are so wonderful." Isabelle sighs, biting her lip. "And that smile. I miss Heath Ledger."

I roll my eyes, but it's true. His presence is missed. Sure, he was talented, but he was also gorgeous. I realize that it's insensitive, but I don't really have enough patience or determination to make an effort to be sensitive.

We finish watching the movie and make our way upstairs. Isabelle's room is always at least a little messy, but it never looks overwhelming because of the size of her bedroom. Yup: it's huge. Ginormous. I'm actually kind of jealous, because my room is basically the size of her bathroom, but whatever.

"So," she says, "how have you been since the whole Jace thing?"

"You mean me running the fuck away from him when I saw him at the bookstore?" My heartbeat speeds up just by thinking about it. "I've been okay."

"I know that you haven't, but I'm going to ignore the fact that you're refusing to talk to me about it." Isabelle pouts, clearly indicating that she is not, in fact, ignoring this, and she's definitely not over it.

I plop down on the bed next to her. "Iz," I say, "it's not that I don't wanna talk to you about it. Of course not. It's just that I don't wanna think about it in general. It embarrasses me to think that I had to run like that."

"Why does it embarrass you?"

I figure that I might as well be honest about this. "Because, dude, he's got his shit together. He was going out, and he was happy, and I just thought that it was gonna be a different thing."

"You thought he was gonna be devastated," she says, realization sinking in now. "You wanted him to be devastated."

"No! No," I say quickly. "Of course not, Lightwood. I didn't want him to be devastated. It's just that…well, part of me hoped that he was still not over me, you know?"

"And that's why you wouldn't go up to him."

"That's one of them. My crippling anxiety was another contributing factor."

She sighs. "I'm so sorry, Clary."

"I just—I really could've used you and Simon last summer. And not," I add, "in the way that you were there for me. I wanted you to understand, but you never did."

She opens her mouth to apologize, but there's a knock on her door before she can begin speaking. Her older brother, Alec, pops in. Alec is a junior, and he has dark hair and blue eyes, and he's so gorgeous.

"Hey, Iz," he says. "I just wanted you to know that Magnus and I are here, so please don't make food."

"Ha-ha. Hilarious."

He smirks. "No, but seriously, I just wanted to let you know. I'll be making dinner later."

"Sweet," Izzy tells him. "Have fun with the studying on a Friday evening!"

He glares at her before leaving, presumably to his room. I look at her. "I see Alec's good."

"I kinda ship him with the guy he's tutoring."

"Who's the guy he's tutoring?"

"This super cute, fabulous guy. He makes Alec blush," she says with a smile. "It's so cute."

"I hope I get to meet him later," I tell her absentmindedly. "Anyway, why is your brother tutoring someone at six pm?"

"Because he's in loooooove."

I roll my eyes at her. "Sure, Iz."

"Look, about before—"

"Don't sweat it," I interrupt.

She sighs. "Clary, I fucked up, okay? I still don't think he was right for you, but I should've trusted you rather than let my opinion get in the way of our friendship."

"You shouldn't have," I agree. "But we all fuck up, so it's fine."

"I still think about the fact that I left you without anyone to talk to, and it makes me feel guilty, you know? You're a good friend, Clary, and I promise I won't hate it if you need to talk about him. I'm here for you."

I give her a smile and a small nod. "Thanks," I tell her. I'm not entirely sure that she'll always stay clear of judgment and prejudice when it comes to things, but I think that that's a lot to ask from any human.

We chill and talk about people until we get to the topic of Maia and Jordan. Even though it's been three months since their breakup, Maia still looks sad whenever he passes by the hallway. It's obvious to everyone that the two of them will be together again or unhappy forever, because they look at each other like they're the last Coca-Colas in the desert.

Bottom line: they're in love.

"But, I mean, she said he has anger issues." Isabelle takes a red M&amp;M out of her bag. "It doesn't make sense for them to be together if she's gonna be scared of him all the time, you know?"

I sigh. "But he'd be willing to work on it, I think. I mean, have you seen the way he looks at her whenever she walks by him? I've never seen anything like it. It's kind of like how Luke looks at Mom when she's not looking. I just wish that they'd talk things out."

"So," she says, in the voice that says she's about to change the topic, "Luke and your mom, huh?"

I groan. "Don't even."

"I thought you liked Luke."

"I do, I do. It's just…" I shake my head. "I don't wanna be adjusting my life to his."

"Your mom's been noticeably happy since they got engaged, though."

And it's true. I haven't had too many serious incidents ever since their engagement. Yeah, there have been a few, but it's nothing like before. And she does seem to be more passionate about life and a more caring mother, too. I think that this marriage will do her good, but I also know that we're gonna move in with Luke.

"We move in with Luke over the summer," I say. "He lives closer to the whole New York City mess, you know, which my brother's crazy about, but I'm gonna miss my apartment. I've lived there my whole life, and I just can't imagine being anywhere else."

"You'll be fine," says Isabelle, who's lived in four different places since I've known her. "It's not so bad, moving. It's kind of like starting over again. You can convince yourself that your room will be cleaner and that somehow it'll make your life quality improve. It's kind of therapeutic. And it's like a blank canvas, 'cause you can decorate the new room however you want."

I shrug. "That's very true."

There's a knock on Isabelle's door. "Come in!" she calls out.

"Hey," Alec says. "Just wanted to tell you that dinner's ready."

"Oh my God, I'm starving." I stand up faster than I actually should have, because now I have a very mild headache.

"Same," Isabelle replies, standing up. "Let's go eat."

After an amazing dinner (Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken!), she and I come back upstairs to her room, where she insists that we look up room designs on the Internet, and we spend about an hour or so doing that. Before we knew it, it's almost nine, and we're kind of exhausted from today.

"Okay, I'm taking a shower." I take my bag and my usual towel to the bathroom while Isabelle absentmindedly scrolls through her new MacBook.

In the shower, as per usual, some of my greatest thoughts come to me. I wonder for a second what makes us good friends, good people, and then I realize that it's not our inability to fuck up and make mistakes and offend people and break hearts and end relationships and whatnot. What makes us people is our ability to do those things and remain people with good intentions. It doesn't always justify the things we do, but it does explain them. It's why I think Isabelle's a good friend. She may not have done what was right at the time I was struggling with the whole Jace situation, but she had good intentions. And now, as I continue to struggle with the same situation, her good intentions remain, and she's willing to help me out in a different way.

I shake my philosophical shower thoughts off as I dry myself up and get dressed. I go outside with my bag slung over my shoulder. I drop it near the walk-in closet.

"Use my laptop if you want," Isabelle tells me. "I'm gonna shower."

I look at more of the designs as she showers. I can feel myself getting drowsy, but I know she's gonna wanna watch Legally Blonde before we fall asleep. It's a great movie, but I'm dying here. I yawn every 0.5 seconds, and I feel like my eyelids are insanely heavy.

This sucks.

After Isabelle gets out of the shower, she turns off the lights and puts on _Legally Blonde_ on her TV, and we watch the wonderful, amazing movie until the two of us fall asleep, neither one of us making it until the very end.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	12. Stop Standing There

_Heey, guys. FFN was a dick and logged me out just as I was about to save my AN and everything, so yeah. Anyway, this chapter's been terrible to me, because it took me, like, two hours to find the song for it. Gross. Buttt, I'm very pleased with my choice, so there's that. Anyway, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing the shit out of this chapter. You're gr9. Also, thanks to LuckyAsLockhart (this song thing sucks, I know), spikeyhairgood (even though you torture me with Jon), and DeathCabForMari. I love you guysss. I feel like an overly-affectionate drunk whenever I declare my love for people, but it's trueeee. _

_Also, as always, thanks to all of you for reading and being so supportive of this story. I know that a lot of you want Clace to happen, like, **now**, but I promise that I'm developing the story this way for a reason. I have a very concrete plan for this story, and I'm trying to get the characters to a certain point of maturity before I reunite them. I promise that I'm not dragging this on for selfish reasons. I need them to develop more before Jace returns to this story, just because that's what's going to drive the plot later on. I promise that what I'm doing is necessary._

_*Also, there's supposed to be a mini break in the lyrics, but FFN is, once again, being a turd._

_I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_All this talking to you  
I don't know what I'm to do _  
_I don't know where you stand_  
_What's inside of your head _

_All this thinking of you _  
_Is that what you're doing too? _  
_You're always on my mind _  
_I talk about you all of the time _

_Don't waste another day _  
_Don't waste another minute_  
_I can't wait to see your face_  
_Just to show you how much I mean it _

_So open up your heart_  
_Help me understand _  
_Please tell me who you are_  
_So I can show you who I am_

_And as the time goes by  
I hope you realize_  
_If you ask me to _  
_I just might be with you _

"Stop Standing There" - Avril Lavigne

* * *

"I think you should do it."

I'm a terrible friend.

Simon glances at me, hope lighting up his eyes. "Really?"

I shrug. "You're not gonna lose anything. She basically knows this from when you asked her to 'hang out'—how was that, by the way?"

"It went fine." He shrugs back at me. "A bit awkward at first, but we talked about movies and stuff, and then we actually _saw _a movie, and then I left. It was kind of nice, actually."

They'd make the cutest couple. I mean, Isabelle is secretly a dork, and Simon likes her so much he just might burst, and they'd totally work out. Unfortunately, Isabelle is the absolute worst when it comes to commitment, so they might not get together for another century.

I'm still encouraging it, though. Because love.

"Just tell her," I repeat. "You're gonna be okay either way, right? And she knows you like her, because why else would you have asked her out like that?"

"Did you tell her I liked her?"

"Pfft, no. But she's deduced it. And it doesn't take a genius to see it. You look at her like a puppy looks at its master. It'd be ridiculous if it weren't so cute."

He rolls his eyes at me. "I'll think about it, okay?"

I smile. "That's all I'll ever ask."

"I think I like Simon."

These two are driving me up the effing wall with their love confessions about each other to _me_. I'm gonna die.

Isabelle, Alec, Magnus, and I are sitting in the living room. We _were _playing Mario Kart (and I was _totally _kicking some royal ass)—up until Isabelle decided that this was totally the time to confess her not-so-secret feelings towards her best friend. She and Alec have always been really close, so it's no surprise that she chose to confess her feelings in front of him, but still.

"I barely know you, and I knew that you had feelings for him," Magnus says, making me let out a really loud, sudden laugh.

"Shut up, Maggy," she tells him.

He raises an eyebrow. "That's original."

Despite their banter, she breaks, cracking a smile. "I'm a genius. Anyway," she continues, "I just hate relationships, and I don't know what to do."

Alec and Magnus share a look, simultaneously rolling their eyes. I make a mental note to ask Isabelle about the two of them later.

"Isabelle," Alec says, using his "I'm your older brother, and therefore I am wiser than you" voice, "if you like him—if you _really _like him—then go for it. You've known him forever, you know he's a good guy, and you trust him. Just do it."

"But what if it doesn't work out?" she asks. "What am I supposed to do then?"

And, after those words come stumbling out of her mouth, she looks infinitely younger to me.

"You get back up," Magnus tells her kindly. "It's not gonna be the first or last time that you're gonna get knocked down, but you _always _get back up, Isabelle." He uses his matter-of-fact voice, and Alec nods throughout the whole speech.

I like them.

"You two need to go back to studying," Izzy says, shooing them away. "Your half hour break is over."

"You're killing me, Isabelle," Magnus says, standing up and following Alec to the dining room so that we can continue playing.

"Those two are cute. Any progress?"

She shakes her head. "Nope. They hung out a bit during spring break, but nothing's happened, and it's frustrating the living shit out of me."

"Oh my God, Isabelle, give it some time."

"I'm not very patient."

"Trust me, I know."

"Hey!"

"Anywaaaaay," I continue, "you should go for it with Simon. It's totally up to you, but you should. Also, he's telling you that he likes you soon."

She gives me a look. "Did you just betray some sort of friendship bond?"

I hold up my fist for her to bump. "Hoes before bros."

She hits my fist lightly with her own. "Hoes before bros."

We continue playing Mario Kart. She's actually kind of good at it, so we continue to curse at each other. She tells me she's gonna kill me every time I pass her or win (which is, like, every time), and we keep playing until Alec and Magnus tell us that their virgin ears can't take that much cursing over the same period of time, so we turn off the game and rush up the stairs to finish the homework we were supposed to start.

* * *

Luke is spending the night in our apartment to talk to us about the whole living situation, so we're having dinner together. I sit at the table, with my mom to my left, Luke to my right, and my brother in front of me. We're all eating kind of awkwardly, but whatever. It isn't that I feel uncomfortable around Luke; I just don't feel like I know him (or my mom, for that matter) as actual people. I know them as authority figures, sure, and I know that they studied once, too, but I don't actually know _them_.

"Your mom and I were thinking of getting a new place together," Luke says. "We're gonna sell both of ours and pay off the new one with that money. It'll be bigger than both of ours, with enough room for all of us _and _a guest room, since our family just expanded."

I make a face. "Are you two having a kid?"

"No!" Mom seems to be appalled by this, which is good, 'cause I do _not _want a crying baby around right now. "He just meant that his family is composed of more people than mine, and it's nice to have a guest room around, just in case."

I let out a relieved sigh. "Good. Just checking."

My mom rolls her eyes. "You're ridiculous." She's smiling at me, though, and so is Luke. Honestly, it's weird to see my mom this happy. I never really noticed that she wasn't happy before, but I notice it now.

"Anyway, we should be moving in during the summer, if all goes as planned," Luke announces.

"And," Mom continues, "I'm gonna need your rooms to be clean every day from now on, because there will be people seeing the apartment."

Jon and I nod while eating. I wonder if they're gonna say anything about the wedding, but I don't know.

"What about the wedding?" Jon asks, beating me (and Luke and Mom) to the punch.

Mom looks at Luke, who decides to take this one. "Well, with selling the house and moving, we thought it'd be a better idea to start planning it later on, when all of that is settled and we're more, uh, financially stable. Once we have our own place, then I think we're gonna set a date."

"We are," Mom corrects him. "We just need to get everything else sorted out first."

"Okay," I say. "That's a sound plan." After a beat, I add, "So…do we get to look at apartments too?"

"Of course," Luke says. "We're making this decision as a family."

It sounds nice, actually. After spending so much time and energy alternating between loving and loathing my mother, it's nice to have the idea that things will be a lot more inclusive now. It makes me feel more welcoming to these new changes, even if I'm still a little skeptical.

I'm just glad we get to have a say—that _I _get to have a say.

* * *

On Sunday night, I receive a call from Isabelle.

"CLARY! Simon told me that he liked me today! Which was, as you said, not _that _surprising, but oh my God, he likes me!"

"I really thought he'd do it in person," I muse out loud.

"Well, he didn't, but I'm glad that he didn't, because he did it over text, which gives me a chance to come up with a reply." Her words come out breathy, and that's probably why it takes me a bit to figure out exactly what she just said.

"Wait," I say. "You still haven't _replied_?"

"Haven't said a thing."

Which is how we spend five minutes planning out her next move. I wanted to tell her to just fuck it and say whatever, but she's concerned because, although she likes him, she _still _doesn't know what to do. It's been two days since our talk with Alec and Magnus, and she still has no effing clue about whether or not she wants to do the do with Simon. Or, well, at least start taking baby steps in that direction, anyway.

"Okay," she tells me. "So I'll just say that I figured because of the hanging out alone thing."

"Sure. Perfect."

We hang up. Just as I'm about to get back into watching _Scrubs _and doing my math homework, my phone vibrates again, indicating yet another call from Isabelle.

"So," she answers, "I fucked up and told him I liked him."

"Finally!"

"What?!" she screeches. "Nooo, Clary. No. I am _freaking out_."

"You can do this, Iz. You never overthink anything, so just don't overthink this." And, before she can protest, I hang up on her and turn off my phone.

I may be the worst friend ever, but I hope that this helps her out.

After I finish the episode of _Scrubs _I'm watching, I listen to Jason Walker's "Kiss Me" cover while doing math homework. Seriously, our Algebra I teacher is insane. Eight pages of math for the next day. Ha. Haha. I might murder him a little bit. Anyway, I listen to my iPod on shuffle while I work on the second half of this worksheet.

I log into Facebook, where, as expected, I have a billion messages from Isabelle. I choose to ignore those, knowing well that they'll be psychotic and a little violent. I also have a new message from Sebastian Verlac, who's one-fourth of my biology crew, also known as our table.

**Sebastian Verlac **

_Hey, Clary. I was wondering if you've done the bio worksheet yet? I'm having problems with #3. _

**Clary Fray**

_Hi, Sebastian. I haven't gotten to it yet bc I'm still doing Algebra I hw, but I'll let you know when I do! Sorry that this message (and the possible help) is so obnoxiously late _

Moments later, I get a reply.

**Sebastian Verlac **

_That Algebra I worksheet totally killed me. I did it yesterday, so let me know if you have any questions bc I can just send u a picture. And haha it's okay, just let me know when u have it to see if u can clarify my question, since you're so smart. _

For some weird reason, this makes me blush.

**Clary Fray**

_It's killing me slowly too. And thanks, Seb! That'd actually be awesome bc I could start on bio right away. And hahahaha you're hilarious. "Smart." Please. _

**Sebastian Verlac **

_Sending them to you now! And you're super smart, Clary. _

**Clary Fray**

_Thanks! And dude, I only do well in labs, but I fail all the tests, and I may or may not be kind of maybe possibly failing Drama right now. _

**Sebastian Verlac **

_…__I have no comment about that last part . _

**Sebastian Verlac **

_And you're welcome for the pics. And you're still really smart. _

I smile and shake my head. This boy.

**Clary Fray **

_Thanks for the oh-so-supportive comments, Sebastian! And thanks again for the pics. I'll let you know about bio as soon as I get to it. _

**Sebastian Verlac **

_Haha sounds good _

I copy his math homework and start working on bio, as promised. Music fills the silence, and I work fast. Biology labs are easy; the answers are always there. Sebastian's pretty smart, I guess, so I'm not sure why he didn't find #3. It's one of the easiest.

**Clary Fray**

_Hey, I got to #3 and just sent you a pic of the answer. Reword it pleaseee_

**Sebastian Verlac **

_Thanks, Clary. You're my hero. _

**Clary Fray**

_Anytime, Sebastian! _

I close the Facebook tab and finish my lab. By the time I'm done with everything, it's ten o'clock, so I decide to turn my phone back on and call Isabelle.

"I hate you so much it's not even funny," is her answer. "I mean, Clary, what the _hell_—"

"It had to be done, Lightwood. It had to be done."

"In what _universe _was that necessary?"

I ponder this for a second. "Are you two going out?"

The line is quiet for a second. Then: "Yes."

"I had to hang up," I explain, "so that you would confront this yourself. No overthinking it. So." I pause dramatically. "How do you feel?"

"I kind of want to punch you in the face, but I'm mostly happy."

I sigh. "Then I did well. I'm gonna go to sleep. I just wanted to check in on you and, you know, see whether you were alive or not."

"I am," she replies, "but I can't guarantee that you will be for long."

I roll my eyes. "Bye, Izzy."

I respond to Simon's enthusiastic messages with a smile on my face. I always knew, from the second that Simon told me about his feelings, that the two of them getting together was kind of a long shot, but it's happening before my very eyes now, and I can't help but be excited for them. This is the kind of stuff movies are made of, and I'm seeing it unfold right before my eyes. I know that it's gonna be full of late night talks and worries, but I'm ready.

I'm ready for all of it.

* * *

"So," Sebastian starts, leaning over so I can hear him, "how'd you do?"

I look down at my quiz and cringe. I tilt it slightly so he can see. "Do you believe in my incompetence in the field of science now?"

"I believe," he says, his voice full of mock wonder. Soon after, though, he grins at me, showing all of his perfect teeth. Okay, so he's pretty cute. "I did pretty well."

"You like gloating, don't you?"

"I do. I really do."

"How'd you do?" Curiosity gets the best of me, and I lean over to see that he got a B+. Damn him.

"Pretty well, if I do say so myself."

I roll my eyes. "You're a total ass, but congrats."

"That kind of rhymed," he replies. "You should really focus now, though. I hear you're not doing too well in class."

I bite my lip to keep comments from making their way out of my mouth and turn back to the teacher, trying to figure out ways to get back at Sebastian the entire time. Even though we do tease each other, he's actually kind of nice. Like, sure, okay, he's known for being the kind of guy that sleeps around, but I can't help it. I still find him pretty damn attractive and nice. Sue me.

I speed-walk to catch up with him. Thankfully, we both have to go downstairs, though we part ways when we get to the first floor, because I have Drama and he has…I'm not totally sure what he has. English? I don't actually know him that well outside of our bio class.

"You are _such _an ass," I say, smacking his shoulder lightly. It _may _have been too friendly for the level we're in right now, but I don't care. "And, because of that, you have to tutor me."

"I was gonna offer anyway," he replies, shrugging.

"Damn it, Sebastian, let me have this."

He laughs, eyes closed as he shakes his head. "You're crazy. I'll talk to you later about tutoring, okay?"

I nod, and we part ways. I can't get help but smile at our interaction as I make my way into Drama class.

Our teacher immediately sends us to work on the mini plays we have to set up for the end of the school year. There aren't even gonna be a lot of people attending the presentation, anyway. Goddamn. Basically, we have to separate into groups, choose a play, and make that happen. We've been meeting up like this for about nine weeks now, but, let me tell you, getting people to do things is not easy. At all. And we present in three weeks. Ohhh boy.

Anyway, I chose to be the director of our play, which means that most of the responsibility falls onto me. I didn't want this to happen, though; I only chose Drama because everything else available during this period was for upperclassmen, and I wanted to try something new. So much for that bullshit. Now, because I'm the director, I get points deducted from my grade _every time _my team comes in unprepared.

Which happens _every single effing day. _

Thankfully, he doesn't check every day. He does sporadic checks, about once every three weeks, in which he asks us to run lines with him. If one of my actors forgets a line or a block movement, then I get points taken off. More than the actual actor, which is just _so unfair_. I hate high school. And Drama.

My team is composed of upperclassmen I barely know and like one freshman girl by the name of Helen Blackthorn, so it's kind of hard to boss them around. I am, however, sick of their shit; it frustrates me to no end that _I _have to pay for their laziness and general stupidity.

"Guys," I tell them, "we have to get our stuff together. We present in three weeks, and we could fail the class if we don't do well. I mean, seriously." I sit down on the bench outside. Another good thing about this class is that he lets us sit outside and rehearse wherever we want. "You guys should care about this."

"Listen," one of them says, "I'm doing okay in this class, honestly. I'm just trying to pass and graduate. I've already gotten into college, so who gives a crap?"

"I do," I reply, dumbfounded. "I'm a _freshman_. This still affects me."

He scoffs. "Well, that's not my problem."

I hate this class. I hate this class _so damn much_.

When the bell rings, I am fuming as I make my way up to my locker. I slam the door to it so loudly that Simon jumps back, startled.

"What's up with you?"

"I'm failing Drama, my team sucks, I suck at biology, and I think I have a crush on someone."

"That's a lot of life realizations you've had today," he replies with a small smile. Isabelle already left, so we walk outside together. "What brought this on?"

"Well, I'm actually failing Drama, so that's just a general worry. And this guy—part of my team, by the way—said that he didn't care about whether we did badly because he's already gotten into college. Basically, I'm gonna fail. And I got a C in the latest bio quiz." I make a face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do, Si."

Thankfully, he doesn't bring the crush thing back up. "We'll make a schedule. Maybe you can talk to your teacher?"

"That's useless. My teacher's a literal pile of shit who doesn't care whether we pass or fail," I proclaim, letting the warming April wind blow my hair out of my face. "So I'm just gonna work a minimum wage job forever, live on my mother's couch, and just give up on my hopes and dreams."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm failing an elective, Simon!"

"But you still have time to pull that grade up." His tone is gentle, patient. "I know that you've overwhelmed, but you can do this. Izzy and I will help you."

"Are you guys a plural thing now?"

He rolls his eyes. "You're being ridiculous. Let's work while we walk."

"You're making my peaceful afternoon stroll a nightmare."

"Well, if you wanna walk in peace, Jocelyn's couch will be waiting for you until she dies."

"So," I say, suddenly feeling energized, "here's what we need to do…"

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	13. Inside of Love

_Hi, guys! So, once again, I almost forgot to update. Oops? It's a pretty eventful week for me, because it's my very last week of high __school. I'm so excited to finally be done with it, tbh. Anyway, I've had my mind full of other things, which is why I almost forgot. But here it is! As always, thanks to my wonderful beta, IWriteNaked, for being so awesome and kickass and everything. Additionally, thanks to spikeyhairgood, DeathCabForMari, and LuckyAsLockhart for being so awesome and supportive. Love you all. :) _

_I can't believe that I have to address this once again, but this is the last time I'm gonna say anything about Jace. A few people left reviews that basically said "No Jace?!" by themselves, or just talking about the absense of his character. Honestly, I don't mind if people write reviews talking about the actual content __of the story and then slipping in a comment about missing Jace; that's telling me what you think of the overall story without demeaning the storyline/Clary's character. But this whole Jace thing is kind of like saying that Clary's life can't stand on its own without Jace, which is total BS. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, but I don't want any more reviews talking about that if it's meant more as something to call me out on rather than a bit of constructive criticism. I've already mentioned that it's gonna take a little while for Jace to get back (not even that long now, anyway), so stop telling me to bring him back sooner, because I'm not. If that doesn't work for you, then just stop reading the story. But, honestly, it's kind of crappy that people would stop reading a story just because the main character doesn't have a romantic interest for a few chapters. That's what a lot of people's high school lives are like-especially in those early years (she's just 14, people!). Anyway, like I said, this is the last time I'm going to address this issue, so leave your comments about this elsewhere. _

_That being said, thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

_I wanna know what it's like  
__On the inside of love  
__Standing at the gates  
__I see the beauty of us_

_ ..._

_I'm on the outside of love_  
_Always under or above_  
_Must be a different view_  
_To be a me with a you_  
_Of course I'll be alright_  
_I just had a bad night_

"Inside of Love" by Nada Surf

* * *

A lot of things happen as my first year of high school comes to a close, all of which leave me to think about the way our lives move in general.

First off, I passed Drama. Barely. I got a D+, which is gonna look just _great _on my transcripts, but at least I passed. My mom tore me a new one for it, though, up until she accidentally ran into my teacher and realized that I didn't almost fail just 'cause I'm lazy. I mean, that does factor into the (very long and complicated) equation, but my teacher just happens to be Satan himself, so. I still got grounded, because my grades were waaaay below the spectrum of decent, so yeah.

And then there's Simon and Isabelle. The two of them have been dancing around in circles _all summer long_. Like, yeah, it's July, so it's not _technically _the end of summer, but I can tell that they're gonna keep this up for a long, long time. Possibly until death. The two of them have been going out on dates and spending a lot of time together, and my daily art classes have given them the push they needed to hang out more by themselves. I know that they keep going out on dates—as in, they actually _call _them dates—but they're nothing official. Whenever I ask them, they shrug and say they'll figure it out as they go along.

It's mostly because of Isabelle. She's perfectly content with moving slowly, but Simon's already committed to this. He likes her so much that looking at him when he looks at her makes me feel more single than anything in the history of the world, so I usually look away and make myself busy by texting Maia, who's been traveling all summer, to tell her about how gross the two of them are.

Aside from that, there's also my art classes, which I'm in love with. My mom's rented out a storage space she had to this lady who gives classes, so I'm basically getting them for free, and it's really nice. I love drawing and painting and the whole thing, really, and getting to make art in the summer (without having to wake up too early!) is a gift. Especially since it gets me out of the house and away from the packing.

Because, yup, we're moving into Luke's.

Which also means that, during their spare time, Mom and Luke are planning their wedding. They're still bummed that they're not getting a spring wedding, but are hoping that they can get married in September, just as we're transitioning into fall. It's a nice time to get married, I think, with the leaves changing colors and the air feeling lighter. It's just nice.

Anyway, it's five o'clock, and my art class just let out, so I'm waiting for Simon to meet me outside the art studio to go over to Isabelle's. I send my mom a text that says _I'm out and waiting for Simon to go to Isabelle's_, to which she replies a simple _okay_. She's too busy to care, which is another positive aspect of this whole thing.

As I stand outside in this particularly hot summer day, the heavy air blowing in the direction of my face, I think about the things that have happened over the past few months. I did what I set out to do—I passed the ninth grade. My best friends are together, basically. My family's becoming pretty normal. I'm doing what I love.

And, even though it's been a crappy year full of disappointments and pain and hard work and a lot of confusion, I know that I have time to heal now. It sounds corny as shit, I know, but this summer's nice. Things are stable now. I know what my life is now, and I have time to adjust to this—to Jace not being here, to moving closer to Manhattan, to my best friends being together, to figuring out what I want to do, and, of course, to the start of a new school year. Thankfully, though, that last one's still almost two months away.

It's a lot to handle your first year. A new academic environment, family issues, dealing with interpersonal relationships, trying to find some time for yourself—it's kind of a struggle, but only because it's so new. After this year, I think I can handle it. It's gonna be tough, but I can handle this whole mess of pain and friendship and hard work and stress and, of course, love.

Why do I get so deep when I'm talking to myself, anyway?

After a few minutes of admiring my surroundings, Simon shows up. He's wearing a light t-shirt and jeans, and he looks like he regrets that choice more than any other choice he's ever made. I'm wearing shorts and a V-neck, and I regret not wearing a dress, even though I'm not a fan of them.

"Let's go, Fray," he says, motioning for me to join him.

We walk together to the subway station. The air is getting slightly lighter now as the sun begins to set.

"How was art class?" Simon asks me.

I shrug. "It was good. Are you excited to see your giiiiiiirlfriend?"

He rolls his eyes. "What are you, nine? Well," he adds before I can reply, "you certainly look like it, anyway."

I smack his shoulder. Hard. "Simon, you asswipe."

"Okay, okay." He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry that I insulted your babyish looks and your height."

I glare at him. "You're not making this better, Lewis."

"Anywaaaay," he says, clearly desperate to change the subject, "she and I aren't together."

"But you wanna be," I point out.

"I do," Simon admits, "but she's not ready. And I get that."

"I know," I reply. "It's just that you two have been going out for, like, two months, you know? You'd think she'd trust you by now, especially since you've been friends for a while."

He shakes his head. "She does trust me. It's just the commitment that scares her. And, you know, I don't mind waiting. I just like having her around."

"You two are too adorable," I say. "You make me kinda sick, actually."

"We do not." He scoffs.

"Actually, whenever you two get gross, I text Maia about it."

He stops walking briefly. "_What_?!"

"Simon, we have to keep walking before it gets dark."

He continues walking, but is not happy about it. "Do explain."

"She's the only other part of our friend group, and she's single, just like me, and you two do get unbelievably gross. But then she and I start talking about how cute you guys are, so it ends up okay."

He grins. "We're pretty cute."

"Don't let it get to your head, pissweasel."

"You're getting creative with those. Or is your boyfriend teaching you new insults?"

My cheeks instantly get hot. _Damn it all to hell_. "Sebastian is not my boyfriend, Simon."

"And Isabelle isn't my girlfriend. This was a good talk," he says smugly. Goddamn it.

The two of us manage to snag seats on the subway, and we sit in silence, listening to our iPods as we wait to arrive at our destination.

_Watching terrible TV  
__It kills all thought  
__Getting spacier than  
__An astronaut  
__Making out with people I hardly know are alive  
__I can't believe what I do late at night_

_I wanna know what it's like  
__On the inside of love  
__Standing at the gates  
__I see the beauty of us_

I let this song play on a loop as the two of us make our way out of the subway station and into the streets. I follow his t-shirt as we navigate the ever-busy Manhattan streets.

Finally, we make it to Isabelle's place. She lets us in without saying more than a simple hello. It's always been like that when the three of us hang together, and I think it's because she's scared of fucking up her pacing. Whatever. It's stupid, because I'm fully aware of the fact that they can't go half a movie without making out.

I take off my headphones as we make our way into her living room. Her perfectly comfortable leather couch welcomes me as I sink into it, feeling the immediate relief it brings to my body.

"Your couch," I say to Isabelle, "is my favorite object out of all the objects in the entire universe."

She rolls her eyes. "That's because _your _couch is the worst object out of all the objects."

I scoff, trying to think of a way to refute that, but it's actually pretty accurate. "Whatever."

Before Isabelle can make fun of my comeback (or lack thereof), Alec walks into the kitchen/living room area. He's wearing a button down shirt, jeans, and a pair of Converse.

"You look nice," Isabelle says. "Ready for your daaate?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's not a date."

"Where are you going?" I ask, turning around so that I'm facing him.

"Magnus's apartment. We're just gonna hang out. It's definitely nothing," he tells me, rolling his eyes at Isabelle's not-so-subtle signs of denial. "I'll be back at around nine."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" I call out.

"Wear a condom!" Isabelle yells.

"Check yourself before you wreck yourself!" Simon adds, which earns him an approving look from Isabelle.

Alec pops back into the room to give us the finger before taking off.

"Do you think they'll bang?" Isabelle asks us.

"Oh my God, Isabelle," I say. "Shut up."

"You know they totally would."

I shake my head. "Alec wouldn't. Magnus would, but your brother can't even flirt without saying something stupid and then blushing for ten years. He's not gonna have sex on the first date."

"And," Simon adds, "it's not even an official date, according to Alec."

"My brother doesn't know what a real date looks like. That," she says, "is totally a date."

I roll my eyes. "Sure, Iz."

We watch _Chopped _while eating popcorn. I sit beside Simon, with Isabelle on his other side. She's leaning into him, and he has an arm around her. I think it's kind of cute that this is the kind of thing they do when we chill. During the very beginning stages of their dating, they refused to do anything like this, but they've grown comfortable enough to show more affection in public. And by "they," I mean Isabelle.

"The dude with the tattoos is totally gonna get chopped," Isabelle says through a mouthful of popcorn. "I mean, he forgot an ingredient! Dumbass."

"You'd be the worst judge," I comment. "So ruthless."

"Well, they're supposed to be professionals," she huffs. "I really like the lady. She seems like she knows what she's doing, _and _she had the best dish."

"I like the hot one," I say, mentioning the younger chef. "His presentation kicked ass."

"Uh-huh. _That's _why you like him."

"The judges said it!"

"Shhh," Simon says. "They're gonna announce it now."

We watch as the dude with the tattoos does, in fact, get chopped. They give him the feedback (his presentation sucked, he forgot an ingredient, but the flavor was amazing nonetheless), wish him the best of luck, and there he goes. He talks about how he gave it his all and blah, blah, blah.

Looking at how comfortable Izzy and Simon are with each other hurts. I love them together—seriously, I do—but there's a part of me that wishes I could have that. I want to lean into someone like that. I want to flirt lamely, like Simon does, while knowing that the other person will go along with it, regardless of how ridiculous it is. I wanna know that I'll have someone that I can trust. Someone whose hand I can hold. It makes me wonder what kind of relationship I would be in. It makes me wonder if I'll ever find someone to help me hold the weight I'll forever carry on my shoulders.

And it makes me want to be in a relationship, I guess. So, while I'm happy for them, it hurts to know that I don't have that yet, because it kind of feels like I never will.

Anyway, we spend three hours watching _Chopped _until Maryse comes home from work. She starts making dinner right away, just after greeting us.

"What're you guys watching?" she calls out from the kitchen.

"_Chopped_!" Isabelle responds.

"Oooh," her mother responds. "I love that show. Which episode?"

"Season two, episode five," Isabelle replies. "What're you making for dinner?"

"Steak and mashed potatoes. Where's Alec?"

"He went out."

"Where to?"

"To hang out with some friends, I think," she lies. "I'm not sure."

"Huh. Okay."

I make sure that my voice is as low as it gets before I lean over and ask, "Why did you lie?"

She turns up the volume before speaking. "Look, my mom has come to terms with the fact that Alec's gay, but that doesn't mean she's used to it. I just don't want this to potentially fuck up things for him."

I nod. "Understandable."

She lowers the volume back again, and we continue watching the show, pausing momentarily to get our food. We watch and watch until Maryse tells us that she's going to bed, and that Mr. Lightwood, who's in a conference in LA, says hello to Isabelle, and that she should really call her father. Isabelle rolls her eyes and turns around to face the TV. She doesn't really have the best relationship with her dad, because he's never really tried his hardest to make Maryse happy, and because he cheated on her once.

And Isabelle saw it.

She was eleven.

Her father's been trying to make it up to the two of them since then, but he's gone all of the time because of his job as a doctor, so they don't see him often. Maryse is really trying, as evidenced by the fact that she bothers to call him when he's in LA when he probably didn't think to do so in the first place. It's kind of sad, really, to watch how she tries to salvage her marriage. I don't know if she's doing it for herself or for her kids, but everyone's noticed that it's time for her to let go, even if she hasn't seen it herself yet.

I focused on _Chopped_. It's eight o'clock, which means that I should _probably _start leaving, but whatever.

"Hey," I say to Isabelle, "do you mind if I stay over tonight?"

She shrugs. "Nope."

"Can you pause the TV while I ask my mom, then?"

She does as I say, and I call my mom, who answers on the third ring. "I hope you're on your way over," is her greeting.

"I fell asleep," I lie, "and now it's really late. Can I stay over at Isabelle's?"

My mother sighs. "Do you need any extra clothing?"

I shake my head before remembering that she can't see me. "Nope. I always keep clothes here, just in case."

"Come back before three tomorrow, okay?"

"Got it," I tell her. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, Clary. I love you."

"You too."

I hang up the phone. "She said I could stay."

Isabelle nods. "It's been easier with your mom lately, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Luke really makes her happy, I guess."

"When are you moving into your new apartment?" Simon asks.

"It's not _new_," I say. "It's _his_. And we move in soon. Not sure when, but soon."

"Shit," he says with a frown. "What time is it?"

"It's half past eight. Why?"

"I have to go home," he answers. "Duh."

"Why did you just notice now?"

"I don't know. I'm too tired for this." He gets up from the couch.

"I'll walk you out," Isabelle says, seeming all too eager to accompany him to the door.

"Bye, Si."

"Bye, Clare."

I wait about two minutes before Isabelle gets back, looking like she just woke up from a really good dream. "Were you two making out?" I squint at her.

"None of your business," she says, sitting down. "But yes, yes we were."

I roll my eyes. "You're ridiculous."

The two of us finish the episode of _Chopped_. As if on cue, Alec shows up while we're getting soda refills from the kitchen.

"Hey," he greets us. "Is Mom home?"

"Yeah," I reply. "She's sleeping, which is so weird, because it's early."

"She had an early morning," he replies. "Had to wake up at four today."

"Oh, man," is all I say to that. "So how was your date?"

He rolls his eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Isabelle turns around to look at her brother. "Oh my God," she says, her eyes wide. "You sneaky bastard."

"What's happening right now?" I ask, confused.

"You totally jumped his bones."

Alec's eyes widen. "Shit, Iz, no."

"Then what is it?" Now she's the one squinting. "What did you do, Alexander?"

He looks up at the stairs longingly, probably wishing he could go up fast enough to leave us downstairs and lock himself in his room. Unfortunately, Isabelle's faster than he is, and there's no way he's gonna avoid us. He sighs and leads us to the couch, probably so that his voice won't carry and wake up Maryse.

"Okay," Alec says. "You can't tell anyone about this, alright? Mom and Dad know I'm gay, but they're still…you know…" He sighs once more. "It makes them uncomfortable."

I make a face and nod. "I promise. Go on."

Once Isabelle makes the same promise, he speaks again. "Well, I got to his apartment—you know he's emancipated, right? Anyway, I got to his apartment, which is really nice, and we had some snacks while watching TV. It was all super innocent—until Magnus told me he wanted to make out with me." He shakes his head, an involuntary smile making its way onto his face. "I mean, I'd noticed him staring at me, but I didn't think it meant anything. So he said this super bluntly, and I didn't really oppose to it, so he kissed me fast."

"How long did you guys kiss for?"

"Like half an hour," he says. "And then things started moving along, and I wasn't ready, so we kissed some more, and then we saw more TV."

"And then you left," I say, just to make sure.

"And then I left."

"Does that mean you two are gonna date now?" Izzy asks. "Because I'm totally down for that."

"Not exactly," he replies. "I mean, we're gonna be seniors, you know? It's just gonna be one year, and then we're gonna go our separate ways, and I don't want to worry about that throughout the year."

There is a moment of silence, and then: "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life."

The two of us turn to look at Isabelle, whose arms are crossed, an eyebrow raised in defiance. "You are so idiotic, Alec. This guy clearly likes you, and you clearly like him, and you're gonna let something that's a year away define the way you live your life already?" She shakes her head. "You're being a chickenshit."

"Izzy," I warn her.

"No." Her tone is sharp. "Alec, you have done a lot of stupid shit in your life. Seriously. I know you ate French fries with sunblock as a little kid—"

"I was _three_," he interrupts her, "and it was an accident!"

"—but," she continues, "this is going to be, like, a new level of stupid. So don't let this college crap be the reason you don't go for it, because Magnus is awesome."

Alec rakes a hand through his dark hair. "I'll think about it, alright?"

I know that he's mostly saying that to please Isabelle, and I know that he's desperate to change the subject, so I decide to mention the only thing that's stayed on my mind during the past few minutes.

"Did you really eat French fries with sunscreen?"

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	14. Fearless

_Heyyy, guys! So, once again, I almost forgot that it was Monday. I love summer vacations. Anyway, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing, and to my friends, **clarissadele **__(there's your shoutout omg :)), DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, and LuckyAsLockhart. You guys are all gr9. Also, clarissadele was reading chapter 1 and we argued for an entire night because Clary never said she was ordering the pizza with soda. Unbelievable. Like, pizza + soda is the best combo of all time, and Clary knows that. DUH. _

_So, first off: thank you for the 200 reviews, guys! You're all amazing and I'm really happy that you've all reviewed the story. :)) It really means a lot to me to see that you guys have things to say about the story, so thank you!_

_Secondly: the incident with Alec and the french fries totally happened, and it's based on a true story. (It happened to my brother when he was, like, 3. He's gross.) _

_Thirdly: I know that a lot of you will doubt me a little after you read this chapter. But I promise that things will change a lot for Clary between this chapter and the end of the story, so keep that in mind. _

_I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_And I don't know how it gets better than this _  
_You take my hand and drag me head first _  
_Fearless_  
_And I don't know why, but with you I'd dance _  
_In a storm, in my best dress_  
_Fearless_

_.. _

_Well you stood there with me in my doorway  
My hands shake  
I'm not usually this way but  
You pull me in and I'm a little more brave  
It's the first kiss  
It's flawless  
Really something  
It's fearless_

"Fearless" by Taylor Swift

* * *

It is the beginning of my sophomore year, and I'm on edge.

Things have remained the same throughout the summer. I've been talking to Sebastian, as per usual, and Isabelle and Simon are still going strong. The only "big" thing that has changed is that Alec and Magnus are in a secret relationship.

I know. _Secret_.

The two of them stumbled over their words a bit when they tried to explain the reasoning behind the secrecy, but they came up with a pretty solid one. "The truth is," Alec said three weeks ago, "my parents aren't ready for this. And it's our senior year," he added, "and we don't know if this is gonna last, so we're keeping it subtle for now."

Magnus is the one that hasn't been happy with it. Anyone can tell from just looking at him that he's the kind of guy who likes to flaunt things, and it must be killing him that he can't do that with Alec. Either way, though, he's being supportive about it. He isn't giving Alec shit about it, which is definitely nice.

Anyway, the five of us have developed a friend group of sorts. I don't know how, because I never thought I'd be friends with Alec, but we end up getting breakfast before school together—all five of us. We make plans for lunch, too, so it's not a one-time thing or anything, I guess.

"Are you excited for your last year?" Isabelle asks Magnus and Alec, smiling excitedly. She's like a mom who's sending her kids off to school.

Magnus nods. "I'm ready to get it over with, but it's honestly gonna be full of a lot of work."

"It's not gonna be fun," Alec agrees. "But, on the other hand, we get to graaaaaduate."

"Yeah," Simon concedes, "but you also have to apply to college and think about the future."

Isabelle sighs and rolls her eyes. "Damn it, Simon, why do you have to ruin such beautiful moments?"

The rest of us shake our heads. We eat for a bit in silence, enjoying the low music playing. It's just instrumentals now, but it's really nice. It kind of makes me sleepy, actually.

"Are _you _guys excited?" Magnus asks. "I mean, it _is _sophomore year."

"I hated sophomore year," Alec comments.

"Yeah?"

He nods. "I had terrible teachers."

I grimace. "Thanks, Alec."

"You guys are gonna be fine," he replies. "You have us to guide you."

"Yeah. We'll tell you about the teachers you get assigned to."

When the clock strikes 7:30, we make our way out of the coffee shop and into Manhattan's busy streets. As per usual, the sound of honking and people talking over each other becomes the soundtrack that moves me forward and in the direction of school. I really love living in the city. I love how it makes me blend in and stand out all at once.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. It's a Facebook message from Sebastian.

**Sebastian Verlac**

_Yo, Fray, are you here yet?_

**Clary Fray**

_Nah, I was getting food with my friends, but I'm on my way now. What's up?_

**Sebastian Verlac**

_I'm super bored. When you get your schedule, send me a picture._

**Clary Fray**

_Okay. Same to you._

I place my phone inside my cardigan's pocket and move forward. We make it to school ten minutes before our assembly is set to start, so we rush into the multipurpose room. Unfortunately, this means that all of our seats are in the back. I strain to hear what the speakers are saying, but it's not like it matters anyway.

When the assembly itself is over, we walk over to the tables located all around with our last names and whatnot. I walk over to mine, get my schedule, and make my way outside. My friends and I had agreed to meet up inside the cafeteria so that we didn't wait outside in the heat for the rest of us. I walk over to the cafeteria and find myself grateful for the rush of cool air that hits me as I enter. Magnus is the only one sitting there; the L line is always super long.

"Hey," I tell him. "Did you get the classes you wanted?"

He nods. "You?"

I look down at my folded schedule, opening up the paper so that my classes for the semester/year are revealed.

Homeroom: Mrs. Penhallow  
Physical Education  
World History II  
Snack  
Chemistry  
Geometry  
AP Art History  
Lunch  
Spanish II  
AP English Language

I shrug. "They're pretty good. Except for PE, anyway."

I take my phone from my pocket and message Sebastian a picture of my schedule. He replies with a picture of his. I see that we have homeroom, Chemistry, and Spanish II together. It's kind of weird (and hilarious) that we have another science class together, but I don't question it. In fact, I'm kind of looking forward to it.

To science.

What is wrong with me?

But seriously, though, I think that this will be a good year. I know that last year I slacked off and the lines between my personal life and my school life blurred, but I've learned from all the shit that went down. I had a pretty terrible report card for the whole year, which made me want to curl up in a ball and die (As in Spanish and English, Bs in World History and Ceramics I, Cs in Economics, Health, Algebra I, and Biology, and an amazing, outstanding D+ in Drama). Anyway, that kind of performance made me prepare myself for a year of kicking ass academically. High school is difficult, of course, but I'm gonna work. I'm gonna do all of the things that I didn't do last year.

Just last night, I wrote down a list of things I wanted to accomplish. Some of them were very concrete—get better grades, diversify my art methods, become more organized—while others were different—try to be a better friend, become a better person, become stronger. It's the last one that's really important to me, because it's the glue that keeps the whole thing together. Being strong is hard, but necessary. I need to toughen up.

But it's hard to do that when you're the only one that's alone.

I mean, you hear people talking about how being with someone else—romantically, that is—is a relief. All of my life, I've wanted someone to help me carry the weight on my shoulders. I want someone to help me deal with the things I haven't gotten over, to the things that have stuck with me and make me tear up just by thinking of them. There are things—memories, events, whatever—playing inside my head 24/7, and I've always thought that I needed (or at least I _wanted_) someone else to help me deal with these things, to reassure me that I'm not useless or worthless or all of those things that I feel make up who I am.

And I just want so badly not to need anyone. This is my sophomore year, and I've already gone through that whole thing with Jace, and I want to say that I don't need anyone, but that's not true. Even if I mostly got through this year alone, I obviously didn't do it without a) the help of my friends, and b) my grades going to absolute shit. So, even though I want to say that I don't need anyone, there's a part of me that can easily refute that claim.

These thoughts have ruled my mind for the better part of the summer. When I wasn't goofing around with Simon and Isabelle, paying attention to their relationship, moving my stuff to Luke's, working with my mom, or taking art classes, this is what I thought of. I don't want to depend on the concept of another person holding me up and helping me get through everything. But, at the same time, I kind of do.

Anyway, this train of thought remains in my mind as I go through the day and compare my schedule with Simon, Izzy, and Maia. Simon and I have World History II and AP English together. I share AP English and Spanish II with Isabelle, too, and Chemistry and Geometry with Maia. Not too shabby.

We have to report to our homeroom in five minutes, so the six of us make our way upstairs. Alec and Magnus compare their schedules, since they're in the same grade, but they only have one class together. I'm still pretty bummed that I don't have a class with all three of my friends, but at least I have AP English with Isabelle and Simon.

I make my way into my homeroom, which I share with Sebastian. When I walk into the classroom, he immediately looks up, patting the empty desk behind his. I shake my head and sit behind him.

"This is weird," I tell him.

"What, sharing a homeroom with me?"

"Basically."

He cracks a smile. "Nah. You love it."

"Well, I'm not blatantly opposed to it."

He shakes his head. "You're too stubborn."

"Hey," I say. "Thanks again for your help during finals last year. I wouldn't have passed Bio without you."

"You're welcome. Maybe you'll be good at Chemistry," he jokes, knowing full and well that I suck at all sciences. Period.

"Asswipe," I mutter, unable to help the smile that creeps onto my face. "How was your summer?"

Sebastian shrugs. "It was alright. I worked at my aunt Elodie's store and just hung out with my friends. Partied a little. How about you?"

"I took some art classes. And, well, we moved into my mom's fiancé's apartment, and I hung out with my friends. Ohh, and I was grounded for a while."

"What'd you do?"

"Well, let's just say that my grades were _way _below average." I wince. "But it's all in the past now."

He nods. "You'll kick ass this year. Last year was tough for everyone."

"Not for my friends. They managed to get decent grades."

"But you're not them," he reminds me. "You're still super smart. You probably had your own shit going on. People handle stuff differently, you know?"

I give him a sincere smile. "Thanks, Sebastian."

"You're very welcome, Clary."

The bell for homeroom rings, and our teacher begins by introducing herself. She's Mrs. Penhallow, the AP Statistics teacher at the school. She also teaches Algebra II, apparently, so that's good to know. She's actually really nice—authoritative, but with a warm kind of vibe to her. Like, if you respect her, then she'll like you, and it'll be nice. Which seems just like the kind of thing I need for this year, actually.

She talks about herself for a bit before asking us to introduce ourselves. She tells us to state our name, age, and favorite class. When it's my turn, I just say, "I'm Clary Fray, I'm fifteen years old, and my favorite subject is English," even though my favorite subject is actually pretty much anything related to art. Sebastian knows this, so he gives me a weird look.

He presents himself by saying, "Yo, I'm Sebastian, I'm fifteen, and I like anything related to science." Which is kind of adorable. People clap. They do tend to love him.

The bell rings, and I hurry out to World History II. Fortunately, our lockers are on the second floor this year, and so are my homeroom and first period classes, so I only have to make it three classrooms down before I'm there.

The rest of the day goes by in a daze. The only kind of mildly interesting thing that happens is that Sebastian becomes my lab partner. See, I thought they partnered you up with the person sitting beside you on the four-person table, so I chose Maia, but apparently the teacher chooses the person sitting in front of you, so my partner is Sebastian Verlac—which is probably a good thing, because he loves science.

And because he's actually a pretty cool dude.

Aside from that, my day isn't eventful at all. I stick close to the people I know, and Jordan and Maia still have some unresolved sexual tension, which is tangible, basically, as we walk through the hallways and the two of them see each other and their eyes meet and it's like the whole world stops while the two of them walk past each other, both of them wanting to say something but never finding the courage to do so. We are suspended in time until there's enough distance so that the tension drops and we feel like we can breathe again, and Maia always looks a thousand times sadder than she did before.

We already have some homework for a few classes, but we go over to Izzy's anyway. Simon's the only one who lives in Brooklyn now, so he always has to leave a little earlier. We're well aware of our time constraint as we walk into Isabelle's luxurious home. Goddamn.

We order pizza and eat it as we talk about our day. The six of us—Magnus, Isabelle, Alec, Simon, Maia, and I—share our different experiences. We talk about the annoying people that stand in the hallway, blocking everyone else solely because they wanna gossip with another person when they can _easily _just text them after they get to their classrooms. God. Anyway, we talk about our teachers, always asking Alec and Magnus for their opinions and advice. By the time the sun begins to set, we're all getting ready to leave, and the nerves I felt earlier today are calm.

It's just like every other year, only I'm actually excited now. I'm excited to prove to myself how strong I can be. I'm determined as hell to do well, which makes this year the best one of all of them.

* * *

"How was the first day of school?" my mom asks before taking a bite of her homemade salad.

"Boring," I reply.

"Eh," my brother says, chugging down his orange juice. Jesus H. Christ. He pours himself some more. "It's senior year, so no one really cares anymore."

"You still have to work hard," she says, wagging her finger at him. "I won't have you getting home with a crappy report card."

"Don't worry, Mom. I'm not Clary."

I take a deep breath and consider leaving it alone before saying _fuck it all to hell _to myself in my mind and speaking up. "Shut the hell up, Jon." Well, it's not the smoothest (or wittiest) retort, but it's the only thing that's coming out of my mouth.

"Clarissa!" my mom says, appalled.

"Jocelyn," Luke says, voice calm, "Clary isn't in the wrong for wanting to defend herself. But please," he adds, addressing me this time, "refrain from cursing, Clary."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever." I stab at my salad as Jocelyn and Luke scold Jonathan.

Here's the thing: for the longest time, all I've wanted to do was get out. Whenever someone in my family humiliates me or makes me feel like shit, I just dream of a day when I'll live far away from home. Whenever I remember all the crap that they've put me through, I just think of how far I'll be when I'm in college, doing what I love to do. That's what's kept me going through years of being treated unfairly. And, yeah, it's gotten considerably easier lately, but it doesn't mean that I don't get offended whenever they try to put me down, or whenever I remember the crap that's happened in the past. So, right now, as I force myself to eat dinner, I just think of getting out. College. Being on my own. _Just three more years_.

After dinner, I storm to my room. The one here's considerably nicer than the one back in Brooklyn; this one has actual space for me to move, and my bed is bigger. I turn on my laptop and make myself comfortable, totally ready to start marathoning _30 Rock_, when I get a new message on Facebook.

**Sebastian Verlac**

_Hey_

I take note of my racing heart and shake my head at myself.

**Clary Fray**

_Yo_

**Sebastian Verlac**

_So I wanted to ask you something_

**Clary Fray**

_So ask me something_

**Sebastian Verlac**

_Do you wanna go out sometime?_

**Clary Fray**

_As in like a date?_

I hesitate for a second before pressing send, a smile forming on my face. Okay, so I like Sebastian a little. Sue me. Sue me hard.

**Sebastian Verlac**

_Yeah, Clary, as in like a date_

I can't help but smile hard. I want to tell everyone—I want to tell Isabelle, because she stares at his ass every single time he walks by—that I'm going out with Sebastian. And, of course, by "everyone," I mean everyone in my group of friends.

**Clary Fray**

_Sure thing. We'll work out the details tomorrow?_

**Sebastian Verlac**

_Sounds like a plan_

I send Isabelle the text shortly after he sends that message, and she sends me a bunch of exclamation marks followed by a million messages in all-caps. He and I continue our separate conversation, but I text Isabelle before sending a message to the group chat, and then Maia, Simon, Izzy, and I die over what's happening.

Because I'm going out.

With Sebastian Verlac.

* * *

On Friday, at 3:32pm, I stand in front of the long mirror that sits beside my dresser, looking at what I'm wearing.

I didn't ask Isabelle to come over to help me. I've been sending her pictures of everything, but she's out with Simon, and I didn't want to interrupt. Also, I didn't want her to make me more nervous than I actually am, so there's that.

My phone vibrates, the sound resonating as the phone's vibrations connect with the hard wood of my dresser. I grab my phone and answer, hesitating for a split second after seeing that it's Sebastian.

"Hey," I answer. "What's up?" I hope that my voice didn't shake. Did it shake? Oh my God, I'm screwed. Forever.

"Hi," he replies, and I can picture his stupidly charming smile on the other end. "I'm almost here. You told me to wait downstairs, right?"

"Yup," I reply. I so wish that he could come up and make it all very stereotypical and nice, but I don't want my mother to eff things up for me again, so I don't take any chances. "I'll be right down."

"Okay," he says. "See you then."

After we hang up, I decide on some skinny jeans, a white shirt, an olive green cardigan, and my Converse. I grab my bag and brush my hair once more, making sure that the curls aren't acting up too much before declaring that I'm leaving.

My mom's in her room, getting ready to go out and do wedding stuff, but she calls out, "Be safe, honey!"

"Yeah!" is the last thing I say to her before I slam the apartment door shut and make my way down the stairs, excitement coursing through my veins. It feels like the high I get after drinking insane amounts of coffee.

The hot summer air is exhausting to someone who would rather have winter weather than hot temperatures, but I still power through it. I see Sebastian as soon as I make my way downstairs. He looks gorgeous, his hands shoved into his jean pockets.

"Hey," I say again.

"Hi," he replies, smiling. He actually has _dimples_.

Oh no. I'm gone.

"So," I start, "where are we going?"

He grins, shaking his head at me. "That's a surprise."

"But I _hate _surprises."

"You'll love this one, I promise."

"But—"

"I _promise_."

I give up the subject after that, a smile still faintly on my face. I may hate secrets, but he makes it impossible for me to dislike anything when he's involved. I mean, he's just such a cool dude. He makes me feel really comfortable, and he's gorgeous, and smart, and—

I need to stop.

"Something really gross happened at my cousin's school today," Sebastian tells me. "Do you wanna know?"

"I kind of have to know now." I nod.

"So this girl—she was about seven—was complaining about how her panties were falling," he says, raising an eyebrow. "And she wouldn't stop complaining, so they sent her to the nurse so that they could figure something out."

"Right."

"Yeah. But then they realized that she was talking about her _pants_, not her panties. Anyway, they were gonna get her new pants, as one usually does, and they had to take off her shoes to help her change, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, when they take off the shoe, they find a cockroach stuck in there."

I actually stop walking. I _stop walking_. "_What_?" The mere idea makes me want to run as fast as I can while making sure that no fucking animal has crawled inside my shoes or anything that belongs to me, really.

He nods rapidly. He actually looks kind of excited/fascinated by this. It's freaking me out, but it's also making me smile. Ugh. "I know, right?! It's so weird. She never even felt it. The whole time, she was just concerned about her pants."

"That little girl has deep psychological issues. Also"—I punch his shoulder, earning a quick noise of faint pain and a feeling of satisfaction—"that's the worst story you could ever tell on a first date, you jackass."

"Aw, are you scared of insects?"

I glare at him. "If I ever find one, I will call you, and you'll take care of it."

He bows dramatically. "It'd be my pleasure to get rid of bugs for you."

"How romantic," I say dryly.

"Come on," he says, taking my hand as if it were no big deal at all, "we're close."

I swear to God, this boy will be the end of me with his cockroach stories and handholding and dimples. _God_.

We walk through the familiar New York streets—and end up in a Central Park. What? Honestly, I was too engrossed in my own thoughts to notice that we ended up here, but we are inside Central Park. I look over at Sebastian, confused.

"Why are we in Central Park?"

He smiles. "Don't worry. I just wanna show you something."

"Uh-huh."

Sebastian shakes his head. "I'm not gonna murder you or anything. Seriously, you'll love this."

"I'm a little scared."

"Don't be."

"Yeah, thanks," I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

I take out my iPod and suggest that we listen to music as we walk through Central Park. In reality, it _is _beautiful. The light hits the trees perfectly, and I'm glad that the sun doesn't begin setting until, like, seven. God bless. The two of us walk, a song about love playing in the background, our hands clasped tightly together. And we don't say anything, because we don't have to—we just walk, and we let ourselves find comfort in each other's presence.

After a while, my legs start to ache, but I know that this date is just getting started. I look over at him for a second, but it's enough to reassure me of what I already knew: he is so attractive. Just…damn. Seriously. I shake my head and look at the path ahead of us.

"Here," he says, leading me in a different direction. The two of us walk past an elderly couple and find ourselves staring at something that I did not know existed up until right now.

"Oh my God," I say, eyeing the Alice in Wonderland statue in awe. "It's so beautiful. And kind of weird, actually, but beautiful." I turn to him. "Why'd you wanna show me this?"

"Because you're beautiful. And kind of weird." He laughs, his nose crinkling as he does so. "Well, actually, that's a lie. This is gonna be kind of weird, but I remember that you liked _Alice in Wonderland_. I remember last year, when you walked into Bio with the leather bound edition your friends had gotten you as a late birthday present."

"That's unbelievable." I shake my head. "I can't believe you remember that."

He shrugs. "It's a mix of the beautiful-yet-weird thing and that. I just thought you'd like it."

"I do." I take out my phone. "Go pose with Alice."

I take a picture of him and the statue, which has Alice and her friends. He takes one of me, too, and then we ask a passerby if he minded taking a picture of the two of us together. By the time we're done, we're laughing at the middle-aged woman's expression when we took a picture making silly faces, and we're holding hands again, admiring the way the sky prepares for the sunset.

"What's next, then?" I ask with a smile.

"Oh, the rest of today's pretty normal. Sorry to disappoint," he adds. "But the rest is just us eating at Panera."

"I love it," I tell him with a grin.

The two of us resume listening to music together as we watch people walk by, admiring the beauty of the park. Seriously. There is nothing like Central Park, regardless of the season, though there's no denying that the colors in the summer are vibrant and alive and amazing. I don't know how I'm gonna go about living elsewhere for college.

Because, yeah, that's a thing. Despite the fact that my mom and I have improved our relationship, it doesn't mean that I've forgotten everything she's done to me. It doesn't mean I've forgotten about wanting to take off. I'm honoring that. I'm leaving home, but I'll miss the place. There's nothing like it. Sure, it can also be a real shithole sometimes, but you can find beauty in the most unexpected places here. And I love cities.

Anyway, this is my first date. As far as first dates—and pretty much all dates in general—go, I think it's pretty solid.

We take the subway to get to Panera, and the two of us find corner seats. There's a mom with a kid sitting in front of us, and I focus on looking at our intertwined hands. I can't help but smile, because this whole thing was so scary to me before. I got so anxious before my date, but he makes me pretty comfortable. I lean into him, and the two of us keep listening to music together until we get out of the subway and out onto the streets.

Panera is one of my favorite places. It's cheap and amazing and they have the best mac and cheese in the world. The two of us order mac and cheese, and I get a side of bread with that, and it's pretty magical. We talk about growing up, about school, our friends, what we like—it's pretty much standard conversation, but he does tell me the story of how he tried to run away in one of those battery-powered cars for children and he got as far as the end of the street before he got embarrassed and scared and returned to his house.

I like him a lot.

By the time we get to my house, the sun is setting, and the streets look even more beautiful than usual. Sunsets are my favorites. I don't think there's a single person that hates sunsets. They're so beautiful and aesthetically pleasing and ugh. I love them. And I love to paint them. Anyway, I don't want this date to end, but we make it to my building, and it's time to say goodbye way too soon.

"This was a lot of fun," I tell him. "Honestly, I had an amazing time. Best first date ever."

"This was your first date?" At my nod, he smiles. "You're practically a pro."

I let out a string of laughter. "Thanks, Seb."

"I'm really glad that you said yes to this."

"So am I."

"So." He pauses, and it's a bit awkward, but also adorable. "Can I kiss you?"

And this is when I get _really _nervous.

We get really close, our mouths close to touching. It kind of just happened, honestly. It sounds ridiculous, but we're suddenly too close for me to breathe without breathing his exhale, and it's weird. And I want to kiss him more than anything in the world.

"I might suck at this," I whisper.

"I'll forgive you," he says, closing the space between us.

My arms lock behind his neck, pulling him closer to me. I have to stand on my tiptoes, and his hands are on the small of my back, pressing us together. It's not a long kiss, but it's a good one, and, when we break away, I can't help but smile like an idiot.

"That was nice," I say.

"It was amazing." He wraps an arm around me. "You didn't suck."

"Thanks," I tell him.

"I have to go, but I'll text you, okay?"

I nod. "Bye, Seb. Thanks for today."

"Always, Fray."

I make my way inside my apartment building. When I get inside, my mom bombards me with questions, but I'd already come up with excuses and everything. Soon enough, I'm inside my bedroom, and I still feel his kiss on my lips.

And it's awesome.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	15. I Like You

_So, hiiii. I woke up at 2pm today (yay for summer break!) and decided to update early on in the day. So here it is. Thanks to IWriteNaked for being the best beta and giving me the chapter song because yes. Thanks to DeathCabForMari for her wonderful review (and always being wary of Jocelyn) and for reading Retribution with me, and to spikeyhairgood for her general weirdness/niceness (even as a baby, apparently), and to LuckyAsLockhart for listening to me die over writing this story and reading Mara Dyer. You guys are gr9. _

_ALSO, you should all read the Mara Dyer trilogy. It's amazing and mind-blowing and I've loved it since the first book came out, so I'm glad that I got to re-read the first two and fall in love with the third. :) _

_I'm gonna answer some questions on here for the sake of not answering the same thing twice. I apologize in advance if this sounds rude, but I've said the same thing over and over and over again and people are **still **asking me some of the same questions. So: _

**_How is Sebastian not a jerk in this fic? _**_There are a few explanations for this. The simplest one is that it's an AU/OOC fic and basically anything goes. The second (and longest) one is that, in the book, Sebastian Verlac (the REAL him) isn't actually Jonathan. We don't actually know the real Sebastian, so I can pretty much do whatever with the character. **Also: just because he was her brother in Lost Souls/book series doesn't mean he's her brother here. AU fics are not, in any way, tied to the books and their plots.**_

**_Is Jace coming back? Is this a Clebastian story? Is this a Clace story? _**_Read my previous ANs. I've talked about this plenty of times, and I don't have the energy to talk about it **again**_**. **

_Now that that's out of the way, I wanna thank all of you for reading the story and reviewing and being generally lovely. You're all awesome. :) _

_I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_I'm finally laying somewhere  
__Where I'm happy that I'm here  
And my troubles said goodbye_  
_And my heartache disappeared_

"I Like You" by Man Overboard

* * *

There is nothing better than holding someone's hand while walking through New York City in the fall, when the leaves are a reddish orange and the air is lighter and the temperature drops.

Also, it's Halloween season, which also makes the fall pretty rad.

I have coffee in one hand and Sebastian's hand in the other. I look over at him, with his dark hair and piercing eyes and he's so beautiful. I still don't know how we've been going out for almost a month and a half, but it's a thing. Which is ridiculous. I mean, girls look at me differently at school, as if to say, _First Jace, and now this. What the frick frack? _And, to those girls, I wanna say: _What the frick frack indeed._

"Are Isabelle and Simon meeting us by the lockers?"

"Yup," I reply. "Please emphasize the fact that they're an _official _couple today."

"Why?" Seb asks, puzzled.

"Because I like to make fun of them for it."

"What's funny about them being official?"

"Well," I explain, "they took forever to get to this point, and they don't wanna make a big deal about it."

"Ah." He nods. "So you wanna piss them off."

"Always."

"I'm totally there with you."

I grin and rest my head on his shoulder briefly before we cross the street. School is just two blocks away, but this walk is familiar; we make it every morning. First, we meet at the subway stop closest to school (which is still about six blocks away), and then we walk together, hand-in-hand, and it's awesome. Like, there is no better feeling than walking into school with your totally hot boyfriend while girls look at you like _what the heckity _and you look at them like _yuppppp. _It's seriously an experience. 10/10, would recommend.

We actually became an official thing pretty fast. We went on four dates, and, last week, he was like, "So, Fray, are we ready to make this official?" And I tried to hide my fangirl-y self and said, "I don't know, you tell me." It was pretty smooth, even if I _was _dying on the inside.

"You brought your lab coat today, right?" Seb asks me as we make our way into the school.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Seb. You've only asked me, like, a million times."

He kisses the top of my head. "That's because you suck at labs as it is, and I don't want you to lose points for something as dumb as—"

"Leaving my coat home. Yeah, yeah." I wave him off. "Besides, I do _not _suck at labs."

"Clary," he says, voice serious, "you super seriously suck at labs. I'm your lab partner; I know this for a fact."

Well, he's right. But I'm not happy about it.

Isabelle and Simon are sitting on the floor by our lockers, holding hands and talking to each other. When they see us, they look up and give us smiles. We sit down in front of them; there's five minutes until the bell rings.

"Hey," Izzy tells me. "Did you change books yesterday?"

I nod. "So did Seb."

"Yup."

"But I have PE now," I whine. "The grossest class in the world."

"At least it's not a billion degrees out anymore," Sebastian says. "So you won't get a heat stroke."

"Very, very true." I give him a kiss on the cheek. "So, how's my favorite, _very official _couple?"

Simon and Isabelle groan simultaneously, and she buries her head on his shoulder, avoiding me. Very mature.

"Isabelle wants to murder you," Simon says. "But we're doing fine."

Isabelle says something, but it's muffled. It kinda sounds like she's saying his name in an exasperated manner, which just makes them seem more adorable, in my opinion.

"And now she wants to kill _me_." Simon rolls his eyes.

"You're too dramatic, Iz." I lean into Sebastian, who wraps an arm around me. "I mean, seriously. _We _don't mind if you talk about us being exclusive."

"And besides," says Sebastian, already smiling, "you two are too cute to ignore."

I flash him an approving smile as Isabelle makes dying noises.

"We should go on a double date," I suggest after a beat. We're really on a roll here. Isabelle looks up at that; she shoots daggers at me, but I keep going. "We can go to the arcade or something."

Her eyes light up. I'm well aware that one of her favorite dates with Simon took place at the arcade. "I could be down for that."

Simon grins. "Really?"

"Yup."

"So today after school, then?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Sure. It's one of my only free Fridays."

"Why?" Izzy asks.

"Soccer," he replies.

"That sucks." She makes a face. "But we're going to the arcade!"

It's all she can talk about the entire day.

* * *

The arcade is a mix of funky sounds and bright lights. Thankfully, not a lot of people are around, so we basically get the place to ourselves. Each of us starts off using five dollars, so we get twenty tokens per person.

"Car games," Seb and I say in unison, racing towards them. We play together. I'm a little rusty, but so is he, and I end up beating his ass anyway. He looks kind of defeated, so I tell him that we can play again. I let him win this time, but I make it look like I tried, and he looks pleased, and I feel happiness bubbling up inside of me until I feel like I'm ready to burst. He gives me a quick kiss before we both get up.

"I wanna play a shooting game," I say.

"I'm right there with you."

But, before we can get to the shooting game, Isabelle runs up to us. "CLARY!" she shouts, even though there isn't any need for it. "ClaryClaryClary, they have Dance Dance Revolution!"

Oh my God.

"We need to play it," I say. "Where?"

She leads me to the familiar setup of DDR. She and I choose to play first, of course, and she hands Simon her phone and tells him to record us dancing.

"I'm beating your ass, Fray."

"You wish, Lightwood."

We start off with a fairly easy song to warm up. I struggle a little bit, not gonna lie, and she does end up beating me that first song. She has a smug smile on her face as she picks the second song, which is definitely faster than the first one.

And…I like it.

The fast beat keeps me aware of what's happening, so I'm actually able to move this time. I register the moves at the right time. There are some that I miss, of course—the stupid _up_ step requires me to fucking stomp on it like a kid throwing a tantrum, apparently—but I still end up beating Isabelle at the second round. And at the third. And the final. Sebastian cheers for me, gives me a kiss, and turns to Simon, who hands him four tokens.

I raise an eyebrow. "Did you guys have a bet going?"

Sebastian gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Yup."

Isabelle narrows her eyes at me playfully. "This isn't over, Fray."

I smile. "Sore loser."

"How about we play?" Simon asks. "This is pretty cool."

I shrug. "Okay."

Simon has to take off his glasses, which makes it harder for him to see the screen (though not impossible), and he actually manages to impress the two-people crowd behind us (Isabelle and Sebastian, that is). However, I still win.

"Damn you, Clary Fray."

I smirk. "How about we play, Seb?"

He raises his brow and bites his lip. So sexy. Jesus. "I don't wanna embarrass you, Clary. I'm _very _good at DDR."

"Prove it."

The two of us step on the mini platform. I let him pick all the songs. I've gotta say, he's been observing me, of course. I see him side-eyeing me throughout the songs with a faint smile on his face. He makes me work for it. The two of us are panting by the end of it, but we're both insanely competitive, so neither of us is admitting defeat. The final round could either have us end in a tie or make me win. If we end in a tie, we'll need a rematch. Naturally.

But if we don't…

I smile at the possibility.

The two of us work hard for that last one. I hear him muttering "fuck" and "damn" and "shit" under his breath, and I do the same when I miss a step or when the _fucking _up step is being a little shit. _Come onnn_, I think to myself, moving as fast as I can. Goddamn. God_damn_.

We're tied.

"Fuck." I'm out of breath. _Three whole rounds_. I might die. I'm sweating underneath my light sweater. I hand Izzy and Simon a dollar. "Can you get me a water?"

Sebastian gives them a dollar and tells them to do the same, and the two of us rest.

"Get ready to get your ass handed to you, Fray."

"In your dreams, Verlac."

He leans in closer. "We do different kinds of things involving asses in my dreams."

I try not to let my jaw drop to the floor as I register that. Because, holy hell, do I want to do all of them with him. I take a deep breath to steady myself and wait for my friends to return, but I notice the satisfied smile my stupidly beautiful boyfriend wears on his insanely handsome face.

When Isabelle and Simon return, I swallow the water as fast as I can and get back up, standing on the little platform once again. I'm exhausted, but I don't let it show. I'm gonna beat his ass so hard.

And then we're gonna make out.

The two of us dance like we've never danced before. I'm sure he's mostly doing it to make fun of me and have more innuendos to make, but I'm doing it so that he can't. Because I like to win. I've never been _insanely _competitive, but games like this one bring out that side of me, I guess. I dance and dance and fucking _stomp _on that up step until I'm sure there's no way he's gonna beat me.

And he doesn't.

I win.

I turn to him with a smug smile on my face. "Take _that_, Verlac."

He whistles. "You _are _good."

I lean in, much like he did before, and stand on my tiptoes, a smile playing on my lips. "I'm good at a lot of things."

And then I walk away and towards my best friend, who holds my water bottle.

Isabelle looks at me, impressed. "I don't know what you just said to him, but he looks like he's in shock. I'm proud."

I grin. "Thanks."

"And you did great," Simon says. "Up there, I mean. With the DDR. And also with the whole flustering thing."

"Thanks, Si."

Once I'm sure that he's gone through enough torture, I walk up to Sebastian and tap him on the shoulder. "Come on," I say, holding his hand and leading him to the family bathroom. He makes me bolder. He makes me happier.

I lock the door and turn to him, my hand still tightly in his. "Hi."

"Hey," he says. "You kicked my ass out there."

"And I'm here to claim the prize."

I back us up into a wall and make sure that there is no distance between us. Every part of us is touching, and my heart is beating a million miles per hour. Our lips are just inches from each other; his breath smells like spearmint. He bites his lip, and I bite mine, and then he closes the distance between us, kissing me with a force we haven't explored yet.

And I love it.

I let myself melt into him, my hands locking behind neck. I stand on my tiptoes and let him press me against him. It feels like a thousand degrees, especially with him pressed against me, but _I don't care_. Not even a little bit. He's strong, but careful, and one of my hands flies up to his hair and tugs him down.

We take little breaks in between kisses, but we finally properly break away after what seems like forever.

"You're really good at this, Fray."

I smile, blushing. "Thanks, Verlac. You're not too bad yourself."

The bathroom's lighting is harsh and pretty unflattering, and I suddenly wanna get out. Oddly enough, I've been in bathrooms with guys two times, and both times have been pretty nice. I shake my head; I don't wanna think about Jace. I focus on Sebastian, on our _awesome _make-out session, and take his hand, leading him back out to the arcade.

* * *

The four of us separate into three groups after we leave the arcade, saying our goodbyes at the subway station, since we were all taking different trains.

Except Sebastian and me.

He holds my hand the entire ride home, and I rest my head on his shoulder. I am so, so, so tired. So exhausted. I already feel my limbs aching, but it was worth it. We listen to music together, and he walks me home after we get off at my station.

When we're in front of my building, he looks at me and says, "You're a pretty great girlfriend. I had a lot of fun today."

I smile at him. I feel like I'm going to burst; I am a mixture of elation and exhaustion. "I like you a ton, Sebastian. And you make out like a champ, and you are damn good at DDR."

He bites his lip. "Well, you're not too bad yourself."

I let out a light laugh. "I kinda don't wanna say goodbye."

"I never wanna say goodbye to you when I drop you off."

It makes my heart skip a beat. It makes me take a quick breath. "I wish I could invite you in, but my mom—"

"I know." He nods. I've explained to him that my mother's a little psychotic. I haven't told him about Jace, exactly, but he knows the gist of it. "I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

"Text me when you get home."

After his nod, I stand on my tiptoes, place a hand on the back of his neck, and give him a kiss. My lips are slightly chapped, but his are soft, and I'm glad that he doesn't mind the difference. I'm slightly breathless as I take a step back, an idiotic smile on my face.

"Bye, Verlac."

I hear him say goodbye to me as I make my way inside, my cheeks red from the kissing and the happiness.

Inside the apartment, my mom is in the living room watching TV. Thankfully, she was well aware of my plans, but it doesn't stop her from asking why I'd been out so late.

"I was at the arcade, Mom," I reply. "Just like I said."

"Uh-huh. Why are you all red?"

"I ran here," I lie. "And also I'm tired. And it's a little chillier than usual outside."

I'm not sure if she buys it, but she drops the subject. "Did you have fun today?"

I nod. "The arcade is insane. And I beat everyone at Dance Dance Revolution."

"Who's everyone?" she asks, and I freeze for a second before totally improvising.

"Isabelle, Simon, and Maia," I reply. "Maia put up a fight, though. But I won anyway." It's weird to use her name as a substitute for Sebastian's, but oh well. It's not like I'm gonna say that Maia and I went and made out in the bathroom afterwards. My mom would kill me for making out with _anyone _without her knowing about it first.

"That sounds nice." She gives me a smile. "Well, go sleep, then."

"Goodnight, Mom." I give her a kiss on the cheek. Even if she _is _a pain in the ass.

She wraps an arm around me quickly. "Goodnight, Clary."

I walk into my room and set down my bag. After I lock my door, I realize that I have to take a shower. Frick on a stick with a brick. I do it quickly, because I'm too tired to stay in the shower before falling asleep, and make my way back into my room.

I lock the door again and check my phone. I have a text from Sebastian.

_Got home safe! Goodnight, Fray. :)_, it says, and I reply with heart emojis before turning off my light and going to sleep.

It's _definitely _been a good night.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! X_


	16. Suggestions

_So heeey, guys. I almost forgot about this one, to be totally honest. I'm on my way out to buy some new pajamas (because mine may or may not be super insanely old), but I thought I'd update. Also: I graduated yesterday! So that's exciting. I'm mostly just so, so, so glad that no one cried, tbh. _

_Anyway, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing this and for being generally awesome and for writing a one-shot that cheered me up last night at 4am. :) Thanks to spikeyhairgood, DeathCabForMari (for listening to all the playlists I've made...you're awesome), and LuckyAsLockhart (for recommending Eleven O'Clock Number to me, even if I died because of it). _

_Thanks to all of you for reading, and I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_It just takes a second  
For my world to come crumbling down  
Oh, I'm sure in the distance  
You can hear that awful sound  
Oh, I plead for an answer  
Plead for an answer from you  
But if you give me an answer  
That just makes no sense  
Then what's the use? _

_And just like that my life is broken  
I can barely breathe  
And now I'm open for suggestions  
At the end of the day, life's a lesson  
Life's a lesson _

"Suggestions" by Orelia

* * *

"You're coming to the game tomorrow, right?"

Sebastian leans on the lockers, his arms crossed over his chest. He's looking at me with a look I can't resist, so I roll my eyes, shove my books inside, and slam the door.

"You don't even have to ask anymore," I reply.

"Well, you _did _miss the last one."

"It was on a Wednesday, Seb," I say matter-of-factly. "And I had things due. This is a Saturday. Totally different."

"I know." He wraps an arm around me, and I lean into him. "I'm just kidding."

"Jackass."

"You know you love it."

I'm glad that it doesn't feel awkward to throw around the world love sometimes. I shake my head, though, but my smile betrays me. "Haaaate it."

"Uh-huh." He smiles. "Hey, do you mind stopping by the coach's office for a sec? He wanted to talk to me."

I shrug. "I don't mind."

We end up holding hands, as we usually do. "You're the best," Sebastian says, leading me down two flights of stairs and into the hallway where the coach's office is located.

"Can you wait out here?" he asks.

I nod. "Sure."

He gives me a quick kiss. "You're literally the best."

I smile, smug. "I know."

He shakes his head and walks into the coach's office. I pull out my phone and open our group chat.

Clary: What're you guys up to?  
Maia: Currently crying over homework while on the subway. You?  
Clary: Waiting outside the coach's office before the usual routine home. :)  
Maia: Why is he making you wait?  
Clary: Coach wanted to talk to him. I don't know. It feels weird to be out here.  
Simon: That's because the testosterone is seeping into you.  
Isabelle: Why are we together again?  
Clary: Because his testosterone has already gotten to you. Whatever that means.

I pull up my hoodie so that no one stops me to talk about Sebastian, because gross. And because I like hoodies, too. But mainly because of the former. Ever since we've gained more attention (for lasting more than two-three weeks, I suspect), a lot of girls have come up to me and have asked me about, you know, how to snag a guy like Sebastian. And that's pretty great and all, but I'm kind of sick of it.

Maia: Simon, are you high?  
Simon: Whaaaaat.  
Isabelle: We're both a _little_ high right now.  
Clary: WHAT?!  
Simon: I'm at Izzy's, and Alec and Magnus brought pot, aaaaaand now we're a little high.  
Isabelle: Correction: Simon's high as balls.  
Clary: Isabelle, please sober him up before his mother actually murders him.  
Maia: Is there room for one more?

Oh my god. My friends are potheads.

Isabelle: Relaaax, Clary. We're just trying this out. I actually don't like it that much, but Simon seems to be a natural.  
Clary: That's because his head is just naturally empty.  
Simon: Ruuuuuuude.

The sound of footsteps temporarily distracts me, but it doesn't make me look up. We've been here for…what? Five minutes? I don't know what the hell is going on in there, but it's taking a looooong time.

"Do you know if someone's in there?"

The sound of his voice almost makes me drop my phone. My entire self is immediately extremely aware of his presence. I look up, because I _have _to look up, because there he is.

He looks different, and yet he looks very much the same.

His eyes widen slightly when he sees it's me, but I try to take a deep breath and play it cool. I mean. Like. I have an amazing boyfriend. A great one. And I'm so, so happy. And that's what I focus on as I face Jace Wayland.

I nod. "Yeah, but he's been there for, like, five minutes."

He eyes me carefully. "Are you here to talk to Coach?"

"Not exactly," I reply.

The door opens up, and Sebastian's voice immediately fills the empty hallway. "Thank you, sir."

"Anytime, kid." The coach points to Seb. "Just make sure you work hard." He turns to Jace. "I'll be with you in a minute. Let me just run upstairs and get the paperwork from the printer."

We watch as the coach takes off in the direction of the stairs. I look up at Sebastian, who's still standing by the doorway. "How'd it go?"

"You, Clary Fray," he says, "are looking at the new team captain."

My eyes widen. "What?!"

He nods. "Yeah, the current captain is switching schools, so I'm the new one."

I reach for his hand and squeeze it. "Congrats."

Sebastian thanks me by pulling me close. He notices that there's someone else in the room, and I literally don't think this could've been more awkward if I tried for it to be. I mean, I tried to go with whatever Seb decided to do, but ignoring Jace entirely feels…wrong.

"Hey," my boyfriend says, "you're Jace Wayland, right?"

Jace looks surprised. "Uh, yeah."

"I saw you play last year," he replies. "You were really good, man. Where'd you go?"

Jace looks insanely uncomfortable, but he answers the question anyway. "I moved to Westchester County."

Despite wanting to stay impartial and silent and stoic, I find myself asking, "So what brings you here, anyway?"

He meets my gaze. Surprisingly, though, he doesn't drop it right away. "I'm applying to this soccer program for the summer and need a rec letter from my high school coach. Or coaches. And, since the latter applies to me…" He lets his voice trail off. "Here we are."

He looks so adorably awkward that I have to remind myself to look away.

To my boyfriend.

This whole thing is just a lot.

"Good luck, man," Sebastian says, and he and Jace shake hands. Boys are so weird. "We have to go, but it's been nice seeing you."

"Bye," I manage to choke out.

He waves in our direction and inclines his head slightly, and the two of us are off. It's ridiculous. I mean, we really have no plans for today; we planned on getting some hot chocolate and holding hands for ten minutes longer before he had to go off to an unofficial practice.

But, suddenly, I just feel like being around him might cause me to burst.

It isn't that seeing Jace has changed anything, but I still remember how I felt. And I remember _him_. No one should feel so familiar after over a year of not being in one's life, and yet there he is, so familiar it hurts. I manage to look back just before we go up the stairs, and there he is.

And he seems to be looking at me.

I turn back to Sebastian and make my way up, resisting the urge to take the stairs two steps at a time.

* * *

"Back up," Isabelle says, probably still getting over the high she was in about three hours earlier. "He was _there_?"

I nod, falling back against the comfort of her bed. I've been agonizing over Jace since the second I tore my eyes from him. When Sebastian kissed me goodbye as he dropped me off at my building, my thoughts were on Jace, and I only barely managed to kiss him back without making him suspicious.

I'm a mess. A total, indescribable mess.

I recount everything to Isabelle. Even in the harsh fluorescent light, Jace looked absolutely gorgeous. His hair was a mess—_he _was kind of maybe a little bit of a mess, at least physically—and his eyes were as golden as they've ever been and his bone structure is more refined and he looks fitter and he just looks.

So.

Devastating.

In the best possible way.

"Shit," she swears. "Seb was _nice _to him."

"I _know_."

"Clary." She is as serious as she's ever been. "Do you still have feelings for Jace?"

I don't know how to explain the mess going on inside my brain—and inside my heart, of course. Because, the thing is, I really, really, _really_ like Sebastian. I do. And I guess that, in a lot of ways, I know him better than I know Jace.

But how do I explain to Isabelle that Jace is the first guy who showed me that there was someone else out there who could be what I wanted? How do I tell her that his laugh was the reason I got through the hard days with my mom? How do I tell her that I listened to the songs he recommended until the lyrics were etched into the back of my mind? I don't think that there are words that can describe the way I feel for Jace; it's a collection of moments, of memories, that prove that it's the kind of feeling that never fades away.

I think I could be thirty—or forty—and married, and maybe even with children, and I would still drop everything for Jace. It sounds like I'm a little bit insane, but I never doubted for a second that he would make me happy forever. I know that it's crazy, since I didn't _know _him that well, but he's the kind of guy you're all in for. He was nice, and smart, and understanding, and sometimes I think about him and my heart hurts.

Even after over a year.

I don't know how to explain all of that to my best friend, but I don't have to. Her facial expression softens. "Oh, Clary," she says. "You can't."

"Can't what?"

"Dump Sebastian for a guy who lives an hour away and won't talk to you outside of this bizarre coincidence."

I frown, confused. "I'm not dumping Sebastian."

Isabelle looks at me, stunned. "You're not?"

"Why would I dump Sebastian?"

"Because you still have feelings for Jace?"

I shake my head. "I'm not—I mean, I don't think those feelings will ever go away, Iz." _And it's terrifying_, I think, but I don't say that out loud. "I have to treat the two of them as two different things."

"Then why did you come running here earlier?"

_Because this is all really terrifying anyway_. I don't want to have feelings for the same guy for this long. I don't, I don't, I don't. I want to be happy with Sebastian, but Isabelle's right: they're not two separate things. Because, even as much as I like my current boyfriend, I would leave him in a second if Jace asked me to.

And that's a problem.

"How absolutely _fucked _is this?"

"Not as fucked as Simon," she replies, "who's currently devouring my entire kitchen."

I smile slightly at the thought. "It's your fault for getting him so high."

"I know." She smiles. "But he's funny when he's high."

"He's always funny."

"You won't get me to admit anything." She rolls over so that she's lying on her back along with me. "So what's scaring you?"

I shake my head. "Too many things to explain."

Isabelle looks at me for an uncomfortably long amount of time. She's still a little high, obviously, or she'd think this was weird, too. "Listen," she finally says. "Sometimes our thoughts contradict themselves so much that we become paralyzed, like we're at a stalemate with ourselves. And it's really hard, too, because you have a great relationship at stake. And I'll say this: I know it's tempting to jump back into old habits with Jace, because that's where you remember being happiest when your life was the shittiest. But," she adds, "that's not for sure. You had that for virtually _no _time, and it wasn't even an official relationship. But you and Sebastian are the real thing." She nods, as if that will make her argument more convincing. "Oh, and also: if you and Jace are really, like, soul mates or meant to be or whatever kind of crap you believe in, then being in a relationship with Sebastian for a little while isn't gonna prevent that from happening. You never know what's gonna lead you to where you're meant to be."

I nod. "That's some deep shit for someone who's half-stoned."

"I think it's more like a quarter stoned, actually." She groans. "God, I smoked too much. Never. Again."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for the help, Iz."

I start to get up, but she pulls me back down. "Stay with meee."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to get home. I have homework to do, because I'm being an awesome girlfriend tomorrow and going to Seb's Saturday game. And then we're going out to eat after. And then to make out somewhere."

"That sounds nice."

"Which means that today is work day. And sleep day." She lets go of me, and I finally stand up. "See you Monday, Iz."

I hear her echo the words back to me before I make my way out, making sure my coat is zipped all the way up as I step into the cold.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	17. Mean

_Hey, guys. My AN will be at the bottom this time. Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

_You, with your words like knives,  
__And swords and weapons that you use against me  
__You have knocked me off my feet again,  
__Got me feeling like I'm nothing  
__You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard  
__Calling me out when I'm wounded  
__You, picking on the weaker man _

_Well, you can take me down  
__With just one single blow  
__But you don't know what you don't know_

_Someday, I'll be living in a big old city  
__And all you're ever gonna be is mean  
__Someday, I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
__And all you're ever gonna be is mean_

_ ..._

_I'll bet you got pushed around  
__Somebody made you cold  
__But the cycle ends right now  
__'Cause you can't lead me down that road_

"Mean" by Taylor Swift

* * *

A few days before Christmas, my mom comes into my room and asks me if I want to go shopping with her.

I've never particularly loved shopping. I like getting new clothes, but I don't like having to try them on—and, because of my flat chest and short stature, I _always _have to try stuff on. But I haven't gone out with her in a while, and she _has _been a lot better since her relationship with Luke progressed, even if they _still _haven't been able to get married.

What happened was this: they realized that my brother is going to college next year, and they realized that he doesn't have the _best _SAT scores, meaning that it'll be a little bit more costly than they first anticipated. So, naturally, all of their wedding money—or at least a chunk of it—is now going to Jon's college fund.

Which means that they're getting married in the spring. _Hopefully_. They're trying to figure out a way to manage a non-expensive wedding in New York City, but that's kind of difficult, so yeah. I don't know when they're getting married, but my mom was so stressed out a few days ago that she yelled at me for five minutes for having a slightly messy room, so there's that.

"Sure," I tell her. "Let me just get dressed."

I brush my hair and put on my usual winter attire—tights under jeans, an undershirt, warm sweater, coat, scarf, warm socks, and rain boots—and grab my iPhone and headphones before meeting my mom in the living room.

We make our way out into the cold. Even after living here for fifteen years, the cold stops me for a second. It's brutal outside; snow covers the busy streets, and I'm insanely glad for my rain boots right now.

"You know," Mom says as we make our way down to the subway station, "Amatis is coming tomorrow with the baby and Stephen. They'll be staying with us for a while."

"And using Jon's room, right?" I ask pointedly.

"It'll be good practice for his college years." She nods in agreement, and I smile. "What's been going on with you?"

"Well," I tell her, "they uploaded my grades yesterday."

"Oh?"

I nod. "I got As in PE, World History II, Spanish II, and AP Art History." I'm actually super proud of that last one, though I don't say it out loud. "And I got a B in AP English, and two Cs." I wince. "Chemistry and Geometry."

"That's not too bad," she comments. "Definitely an improvement from last year."

I want to reply, but the train arrives just as I open my mouth to say something, so I quickly close it and follow her inside. Once we manage to get seats, I bring the subject back up. "Well, yeah. But I still wish I could've done better."

She looks at me for a second before replying. "I know that you worked hard this year, Clary. You took tutoring for Chemistry and Geometry; I know you did. That's all I ask you to do, you know," she adds. "Your best."

What the frick frack happened to my mom?

I shake off that thought and follow her out of the subway. We go to Forever 21 first, and we talk about everything—the wedding, if she's gonna miss Jonathan, how Amatis is doing, etc.—before moving on to our next stop. By the time we finished shopping, we exhausted every topic, and we each carried two bags full of stuff.

We get assigned a booth at Olive Garden, which makes me happy, and the two of us order our food before starting our conversation back up.

"So," Mom says, "you're good with the move we made here?"

"I already did everything here, Mom." I roll my eyes. "But yeah, actually. It's made life a lot easier."

"Good." She stops, takes a sip of her drink, and then turns to me. For the first time in a long time, she actually looks _nervous_. "Clary, I want to talk to you about something. I've actually been wanting to talk to you about this for months, but I haven't found the right chance to bring it up."

Dread creeps up on me, making me tense up. "What is it?"

She sighs. "Nothing bad for you or anything." After I relax, she continues. "I know that I haven't been the best mom."

_Understatement_. I mean, I know _why _she hasn't been the best mom—I've only heard about her crappy, abuse-filled childhood like a billion times—but still. "And I want to explain myself."

"Mom, I already know about your childhood," I tell her.

She nods. "You do. And that's a huge part of it," she says. "You don't know everything about it, Clary. What I've told you and your brother barely scratches the surface of the things I went through growing up."

Here's what I know: her parents died of cancer—both of them, which is just the worst—when she was little (one when she was three, and the other when she was five), so she went to the care of her grandma. She liked her grandma; she was tough, but nice. But her grandma was old, and she died when she was nine, so she went to the care of her _way _older stepsister, who was in her thirties. Basically, my grandfather was a manwhore who produced babies until the day he died when he was a bajillion years old.

So my "aunt" was kind of a bitch. She burned my mom's hand once because my mom took a few cents from her purse without asking. She slut-shamed—_hard_. My mom couldn't wear shorts or tank tops or anything that the stepsister deemed inappropriate (which was pretty much everything). My mother's childhood was like a movie, filled with attempts to run away (only to barely escape being raped by a bus driver, or being found by the stepsister), physical abuse (even to this day, she still had some scars in her body to prove that her childhood was hell), mental abuse (I don't know a lot about this one, but I know that the stepsister called her worthless a billion times), and a bunch of other things. And my mom didn't escape it until she married my father when she was twenty.

So, yeah. My mom has been through a lot in her life. And it's part of the reason why she's so fucked up. Knowing that I don't actually know the half of it is kind of unnerving.

"My relationship with my sister is rocky," Mom says. "It took me a lot of years of help to get to where I am right now. I know that it seems that being with Luke has helped—and it has—but it's a mixture of being happy and going to a _lot _of therapy." She smiles. "I was hospitalized with depression when you were thirteen, you know. When I first started seeing Luke."

I snap my head up. "What?"

"It wasn't overnight hospitalization, obviously. I had an old friend help out with the gallery, but I'd be in the hospital all day. I left home an hour after you went to school and came back late."

I try to remember if there were any signs of this before, but everything is a blur. I only remember the important parts. "Why—I mean, was it that bad?"

She nods. "Incredibly. And the things that went through my head were unforgivable." She shakes her head. "I haven't talked to my stepsister in a while, but, whenever she'd call before, or whenever I anticipated a call, I wouldn't eat. I _couldn't _eat. It's called _anorexia nervosa_; it was one of the things I dealt with while being hospitalized."

"And you're better now?" I want to smack my head after the words stumble out of my mouth. _Duh_, she's better now. I'm an idiot.

"A lot better. I have my bad days, of course, but being with Luke and therapy and having a family again has helped out."

"And the stepsister?"

"Though other people tell me about her, she's out of the picture. I know she's alive and struggling with some illnesses, but that's about it."

You know, there are a lot of gray areas they never tell you about while growing up. The thing is, I grew accustomed to being angry at my mom for everything, and she _is _to blame for some things, but this is obviously such a huge issue.

"Where are you getting at with this?" I ask.

Mom looks at me and her eyes are filled with regret and apologies. "I haven't been the best mom, but I somehow ended up raising amazing kids. You are both going to do great things someday—hell, you already are. I know that my methods have been hurtful, and I'm sorry, but I also know that I've raised you to be strong. To endure things."

_You should've raised me to live, not to endure_. I don't say the words out loud, but they pop up in my head. "If you're so proud of us, then how come you didn't let me make my own choice?"

She looks confused. "What?"

"You were hospitalized," I say. "I think you were, anyway. But the choice was mine to make. With Jace."

She frowns for a second before it hits her. "The boy from when you were thirteen?" At my nod, she continues. "I stand by what I said back then. He was not the guy for you."

"That wasn't your decision to make."

"It was what was best for you."

I shake my head. "What was best for me was to make my own choice."

"You can make them now."

"No." I shake my head. "I can't."

"And why is that?"

_Because I don't know if I can trust you to keep your word. Because every single choice that I make runs the risk of being found out (and disapproved) by you. Because I can't choose something without wondering if you'll take it away from me._

"Forget it," I reply.

She shakes her head. "I want to know why you feel that way."

"Because!" I whisper-shout, slumping back against my seat. The rage has been settling inside me for years, and letting it out at once might break me. "Because," I say more calmly, "you've given me this sense of false authority for too long. What if you're not okay with a choice I make?"

"Then I'll show that I'm not okay with it, but I'll let you deal with it."

"And how do I know that I can trust you?" I ask, and I'm aware of the venom in my stare. "Mom, I know that you've meant well this entire time, but you don't know the toll that all of that has had on me." I hate that I'm pouring my heart out to her, but I have this sudden desire to get through to her, to make her understand. "I know that some of these choices seem stupid or like your way was the only way, but it's not. This is _my_ life. _My _choices."

"Oh, please." She scoffs. "You don't know what it's like to be limited by your surroundings, Clary. Just because I've made a decision or two for you doesn't mean that I'm preventing you from leading the life you're mean to live."

I take a deep breath to keep me from punching her. _Hard_. Because, even though I respect the fact that she didn't kill herself after having a horrendous childhood, she still gets on my last damn nerve when she plays the "I had it _way way way way _worse than you did" card.

"What was the one thing you wanted when you were growing up, Mom?"

"Freedom," she replies.

"Well, so did I. I still do. And, you know, it's great that you're giving it to me now. It's fantastic, actually. But it doesn't take away from the fact that, for the longest time, I didn't _have _it."

"But you did!"

"No!" I tell her, widening my eyes. "No, I didn't! I can't believe that you think you're right about this—especially after you've been through something similar. Was your childhood worse? Yes, Mom, everyone and their mother agrees with that. But it doesn't take away from the fact that I couldn't even _choose _if I wanted to stay friends with someone just because you thought he was a bad influence!"

My mom looks upset. I may have overstepped my boundaries, but, breaking news: I don't give a crap.

"Clary," she says slowly, "our childhoods don't compare. They don't. And that boy was bad for you."

"That is not your call to make, Jocelyn."

She looks like she's been slapped in the face after she hears me use her name with venom in my words. I feel my chest constricting—not out of pity, but out of anger—and wait for her reply. "I am your mother."

"And I'm your daughter." I sit up straighter. "But I'm also a person. And, if I'd been someone else's daughter, they probably would've let me stay with the first guy that ever made me happy."

Thank God for the restaurant's loudness. It's the only reason we're able to get away with this without any stares from anyone.

"Well, you're _my _daughter. And he wouldn't have made you happy."

"You don't know that!" I raise my voice slightly, tears pricking at my eyes. I'm so frustrated that I'm gonna start crying. _Great_. I'd held it together pretty well up until this second. "God, this is why I _hate _talking to you. You pretend to be so understanding and open-minded about everything, but you're obviously not. You don't understand, Mom. I hate saying it, but you're the last freaking person in this entire planet who would understand, apparently, because I'm saying it _right to your face _and you keep denying it."

"Denying _what_?"

"That you're wrong! That I would've been fucking _elated _to be with Jace! That I've had so little autonomy in my life because I was _terrified _of what you'd do to me if I ever went against your word." I'm almost crying. I keep telling myself to stop, but I can't. She's hit a button that's now broken, and the words can't stop themselves from escaping my mouth. "I'm telling you all of that to your face, but you would still deny it, wouldn't you? Because my feelings aren't worth shit to someone who's had it worse."

"That's _enough_."

"If only I could say those words right back to you."

"Unless you want me to slap some sense into you and form a scene in public, you'd better shut up."

I shake my head. "You haven't changed at all."

"But I'm trying," she replies. "I'm trying, Clary. I really am. But you keep blaming me for every little thing in your life—"

"Because all of this is your fault!"

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is. I'm not blaming you for my bad grades or the fights I've had with my friends or the fact that I can be super lazy. Those are _my _mistakes. But _you _were the one who pulled the plug on the Jace thing. _You _were the one who'd beat me senseless for doing anything that you thought was even slightly wrong. _You _were the one who scared me into not pleading my case." I'm glaring at her like I've never glared at anyone before. All the rage I've felt over these years washes over me. It consumes me. "And I am so done. I'm done being scared of someone who doesn't even try. If you were even a slightly better person, you'd admit that everything I'm saying you did wrong was _actually wrong_."

"I was protecting you," she tells me.

"If you wanted to protect me, then you wouldn't have beat the shit out of me when I was too young to do basic math."

The words hit her; I can see it in the way she recoils as if I've threatened to slap her myself. "I thought I was doing the right thing back then."

"And that's the same kind of shit you're pulling now, only you don't _see_ it. It's still too soon for you to." I shrug. "But that's not my problem."

She shuts her eyes. "I'm tired of fighting you on this."

"And I'm tired of you doing this to me." I'm definitely going to the bathroom to cry after this.

"Clary, I know that I've fucked up a lot in the past, okay? I do. I don't think that making you stop talking to that guy was the wrong choice, but I see your point." She shakes her head. "It just seems silly to me that the thing you're fighting me about is a guy."

"It's not the guy, Mom. It's the fact that I didn't have a choice." _And that he was pretty much perfect for me. And that I hurt him, and I don't know if he's ever gonna forgive me, and all of the things that I could've had still haunt me at night. And I'm never gonna escape that._

"I promise you," she says, taking my hands in hers, "that I'm going to try. So, so hard. I'm trying to make everything work, Clary, and I want to be a better mom. I know it's not going to be easy, but I don't want to have you hate me forever."

I want to tell her that I don't hate her, but I can't. "Then you're gonna have to try hard."

"Just as long as you put in the same effort," Mom says. "This isn't going to be one-sided, Clary. I want to be a good mom—of course I do—but I also want you to be a good daughter as well. Just because I have regrets and want our relationship to improve doesn't mean I'm weak. It means that my priorities have shifted."

I nod. "Got it. But," I add, "so have mine."

She nods, and, just like that, we reach an understanding that's beyond words. Things are far from okay between us—there are things about me that I think she will die without understanding—but at least that's all out there. I know that pouring my heart out to her was probably not the soundest idea, but it got me to where I am, so at least there's that.

Happy holidays to us, I guess.

* * *

_So, hiii. I have a lot to say about this chapter, which is why I waited until the end to write my AN. As per usual, thanks to my awesome beta, IWriteNaked, for beta'ing this. You're gr9, and I don't know what I'd do without your mad beta'ing skillz. Also, thanks to DeathCabForMari and spikeyhairgood for last night's (incredibly late) FaceTime session. And, of course, thanks to LuckyAsLockhart, because I complain about picking a song every. single. time. _

_Okay, so this chapter. It was really, really, **really **hard for me to write (I'm pretty sure that I was sending my friends snapchats of me dying as I wrote this one), but I had to. It's the one chapter that I **knew **had to be in this story. I know that Jocelyn has this terrible character flaw that may make her seem villainous, but it was important to remind Clary (and myself, and you guys) that Jocelyn is just human_—_a __very flawed one who thinks she knows everything, but a human nonetheless. It's really hard to hate her if you don't know what she's been through, and it was important for both sides of this argument (Clary and Jocelyn) to get it all out there. This chapter was inspired by a few arguments/talks I've had with my mom in the past, and that's pretty much the reason this was so hard for me to write. But, anyway, yeah. Now you know a little bit more of why Jocelyn is the way she is. (Also, I know that some of those things she went through may seem a little unreal, but they're all based on my mom's real life experiences. I wanted to make this as close to real life as I could, so.) _

_But I DO wanna say this: just because Jocelyn's behavior is **explained **doesn't mean that it's **excused**. Both things are very different. The impact of Jocelyn's actions and words are still very real for Clary. Yeah, her personality is somewhat explained in this chapter, but she still did the things that she did, and she still hurt her daughter, and those are unforgettable things. It's important that Clary begins to forgive her, of course, but she will never, **ever **forget—__and she shouldn't. It's very important to remember that we aren't obligated to forgive people or ignore the hurtful things they've said and done just because they're family or friends or because there's a relationship there. It's one of the many things that a lot of people don't get, but it's one of those lessons that I feel everyone should know. If someone does something bad to you, or if someone hurts you (physically **or **emotionally), you aren't obligated to forgive them, much less forget about it. And that's what Clary's learning in the story. _

_That was really long, but yeah._

_Let me know what you think! _


	18. All I Want Is You

_Hiiii, guys. So, I totally forgot that today was Monday, but here I am. This chapter is coming to you from my favorite city in the world (New York City), which I'm sad to be leaving tomorrow. These past few days have been amazing (I saw Wicked again and saw my friend Liv and we went to The Strand and the High Line and !), but I'm totally looking forward to the rest of my trip. I'll be in Europe until the 13th, which brings me to the important part of this AN: **Because I'll be gone until the 13th, my beta, IWriteNaked, is gonna be updating for me**_**. **_It's just gonna be one update (next Monday!), but that also means that I won't be able to reply to reviews until the 13th. So, please, do ask questions if you have any, but I won't be able to get to them until later on. That being said, thanks to my awesome beta, IWriteNaked, for beta'ing (duh) and choosing the song (because yes) and doing me this huge favor. You're gr9. Also, thanks to my fraaands, DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, and LuckyAsLockhart, for always being super supportive and nice and awesome. I love allll of you four lovely people, and I'm gonna miss not being able to talk to you for over a week. :( _

_I hope you guys like this chapter, and I'll see you when I'm back!_

* * *

_At best, all they do is distract me_  
_But now, deep down, when I face it_

_All I want is you_  
_All I want is you (now)_  
_All I want is you now_  
_Now that you're gone, gone, gone._

_Cause being your friend was killing me softly_  
_Hear voices_  
_Wondering where I went wrong_  
_It was my fault, in the wrong time,_  
_I wonder so often, regret gets exhausting_

"All I Want Is You" by A Loss For Words

* * *

"You know what's funny?"

"What?"

"I've never met your mom."

_Hilarious_. "And I intend to keep it that way."

Sebastian frowns at me. "Is it because you're embarrassed of me?"

I roll my eyes. "Nope. It's because my mom can be a huge bitch."

"I don't care," he replies. We've had this "argument" before, and it never ends well. "We've been together for _six months_, Clary."

"I know. That's why we're _celebrating_, not revisiting old arguments." I stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss, hoping it'll be cute enough to make him forget our argument.

"But it's a valid argument," he points out.

"Can we talk about this later? It's our anniversary today."

He sighs. "Fine. But we _will _revisit this."

"Uh-huh."

Even though my mom and I are _trying _to get along better, there's still tension there. Sure, we're opening up to each other slowly—not that we were totally closed off before, anyway—but it's hard to do that when I remember everything she's ever done to me and wish that I never had to see her again.

It's hard to move on.

And I just can't ruin one of the best things I have in my life right now. I always thought I'd never let my boyfriends meet my mother, just for the sake of actually keeping a relationship healthy and alive (and also because my mother can be in_fucking_sane), but he's being persistent. _Very _persistent. I'd admire him if the whole thing weren't so goddamn annoying.

The whole thing actually distracts me from our current location, but then I look around. And remember.

Yup. We're in Seb's room.

It's actually pretty nice in here. His room isn't huge or anything. It has a navy blue wall, while the remaining ones are paint the subtlest shade of blue, so subtle that they're basically white. It's really nice. He has a queen-sized bed (which I'm in love with and currently sitting on), a TV hanging from his wall, a bookshelf, a desk, chair, and closet. His nightstand has a few books on it; they're all related to sports. He has a few soccer posters up.

"It's not huge, I know."

"It's great." I pat the empty space next to me. "Come on."

His parents are out of town for the weekend. We aren't planning to have sex or anything, just because I told him that I'm not ready for that yet. We've definitely had two or three times when we've been close, but I always end up backing out. I don't think it's an intimacy thing or anything. I just always expected to wait a little longer than six months, you know?

"What's up?"

"I'm gonna be sappy with you for a second."

He smiles. "Okay."

"You're an amazing boyfriend," I tell him, "and I'm really glad that we're together."

"So am I."

Six _freaking _months and we still haven't said _I love you_.

And it's my fault.

I don't know _why _I haven't said it yet. I mean, he makes me happier than most people; he's one of the few people I can spend forever with and _still _be entertained. He makes me feel amazing, and we have fun together, and he kisses like a pro, and he's the perfect boyfriend.

So why the frick frack haven't I said shit to him yet?

"You make me feel super great about everything, you know?" I smile. "And it's like every moment we spend together deserves its own paragraph sometimes. I am super into you, and I just don't wanna fuck it up." I grab his hand and place it on my lap. I bite my lip, trying to find the words to tell him just how much I care. "And there are so many things I could say about how happy you make me or how much I want us to last, but I just wanna keep showing you instead." And here's my favorite part. "So I told my mom that I was sleeping over at Isabelle's."

"But you're staying here?" He sounds hopeful, and his eyes light up when I nod. "You," Sebastian says, "are the best girlfriend a guy could ask for."

I squeeze his hand. "I'm well aware of my awesomeness."

"Good. Thought I'd remind you."

I smile at him, and he takes his free hand and traces my bottom lip with it. My eyes close involuntarily; he knows that's one of my favorite things. I feel him leaning in, and I get on my knees, letting out intertwined hands drop to the side. We don't let go. Our grip strengthens as we close in on each other, and then his lips are on mine, and I remember why we'd gotten so close to having sex before.

_Damn_.

He takes his free hand and cups the back of my neck with it, pulling me closer to him. And I want to be so close to him that there is no space between us. I've never craved anything more than I'm craving him right now.

I know that we're not gonna actually have sex, but still. It's nice to know that we'll still be getting somewhere tonight.

I sit on his lap and wrap my legs around his waist, and he lets out a moan, which is only, like, the hottest thing in the history of the world, so I kiss him harder. I'm sure that my mouth will be bruised by the time we finish kissing, but _I don't care_. He is all I want. All I _need_. And his hands are big and one is on my neck and the other under the fabric of my shirt and all I want to do is rip off our clothes and hump like bunnies, but it's not happening.

Still. It _could_.

We take breaks to breathe before going at it again. Kissing him feels like the most amazing kind of therapy, like I'm releasing all of my feelings on to him. And his beautiful, beautiful, sexy mouth. He lays me down on the bed, my legs still wrapped around his waist, and supports his weight with his two arms. My breath is caught in my throat, because this moment feels more real than any other I've had with him. I've never actually felt this desperate to have him do me, but he just looks so freaking good to me right now, and I like him so much, and it's been six whole months, and he totally deserves it.

I mean, it's not gonna happen. Nope. But still.

After we finish making out, we decide to watch some Netflix, because it's snowing outside and he's the best person in the world. His bed is pushed towards the window, and I watch as the snow collects on the New York City streets. He lives on the fourth floor of an apartment building, which I love. I love apartment buildings, and it's mostly because of their view. I see the buildings and the people and the snow and it's all undeniably perfect.

I curl up beside him as he turns on _Parks and Recreation_. Though I've seen it before, he hasn't, and I've been nagging him about it forever.

When I look at him with a smile on my face, he shrugs. "Just figured we'd do this today."

I rest my head on his chest and watch as one of my favorite shows begins. "It gets a lot better after this season," I tell him.

"I'm sure I'll love it."

"You will. But I'm just saying."

After watching the first season with only _one _interruption (I really wanted to make popcorn), we order pizza and begin the second one. This one is much better; he laughs in all the right places and tells me he loves everyone. Except Mark. Because fuck Mark.

We pause Netflix when our pepperoni pizza gets here. Thankfully, he's got a shitton of soda in his house, so we bring huge glasses full of Coke to the room as well. We keep watching as we eat, and I just can't help but think that I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have a guy like him with me.

We manage to make it to the beginning of season two (four episodes in, to be exact) when Sebastian asks for a break. He's never been one to marathon TV shows or anything; he watches them slowly, which was why this choice was even more monumentally awesome.

"What do you wanna do?" I ask him, my hands on my stomach.

He shrugs. "Do you ever notice how we're always doing _something_?"

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we never stay in anywhere. We're always out and about. I don't think we've ever really talked about stuff."

"Huh." It's weird that he sees it that way.

"I like us, Clary, but I don't know."

That about sums it up.

"Well, what do you wanna talk about?" I turn to him, searching his face for a sign of something.

"I don't know." He shrugs. "I do have a question, but it's stupid, and it's gonna piss you off."

"What is it?" I ask.

He smiles. "Promise not to be mad at me?"

I hesitate for a second before intertwining our pinkies together. "Promise."

"Okay." He places his hands back on his stomach, and I do the same. "Why won't you have sex with me?"

I widen my eyes. Shit, shit, shit. Oh my God. I bite my lip and look over at him. "Well…"

"What?" he asks, frowning.

"It's just that I always thought I'd be with a guy for longer before having sex with him, you know? Six months is a while, and they've been great, but I'm just not ready."

He nods. "Okay."

"Really?"

"I'm not gonna pressure you, Clary."

"Good." I grab his hand and place it on my stomach. "Because I hate being pressured. Now," I add, "is there anything else that's burning in the back of your mind?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Do tell."

"Why is your brother such a dick?"

I stifle a laugh and look over at him. "Is he being a little bitch on the team?"

"Babe, he's the worst."

I hate being called babe, but I let it slide. "He _is_. He's also just stressed, because he got rejected from his top choice when he applied early, so now he's freaking out."

"He's resigned as captain," Sebastian says, "but he's still a dick."

"He'll be gone next year, at least."

"Far, far away."

I laugh and look over at him. "Why do you hate him so much?"

"You should see him in the field. Everything I do is wrong to him, and he just _loves _bringing up that he'll kick my ass if I ever hurt you."

I scoff. "As if he's ever given a shit about my personal life. Besides," I add, "I can very well kick your ass myself."

"That's what I tell him."

I smile. "Well, whatever. He sucks."

"He does. Seriously hairy balls."

"Ew."

"You know you love my amazing comments."

"Couldn't live without them." I roll my eyes at him. "So. I haven't told you this, but your ex-girlfriend sent me a message on Facebook the other day."

He frowns. "What'd it say?"

"Oh, you know, she was saying that you're _really _bad at kissing. Which I know isn't true. And she also said that I wasn't good enough for you and blah, blah, blah. Why is your ex such a bitch?"

"Because I dumped her."

This I did not know.

"Look," he continues, "we went out since we were thirteen, okay? It was ridiculous. I never really liked being with her. She was alright, but she wasn't the kind of girl that made an impression on me, you know? She complained about me, and yet she would do the same things she'd bitch about. We were never serious, and I just don't know why she's acting like this now."

Wow. Okay. Alriiiiight.

I guess I kind of get it. I mean, you get into a relationship when you're not ready, and then the person doesn't turn out to be what you expected them to be, and then everything goes to hell. I haven't personally experienced it, but yeah. Must suck.

"Sorry it was crappy. She's not actually being terrible or anything, so at least there's that."

"Yeah."

After a beat, I ask, "Is that enough talking for you?"

"Definitely."

"Yup."

We continue watching _Parks and Rec _until one of us wants to make out, and then we do that. Basically, the best part about this anniversary is that we're alone, holed up in his room, and able to do whatever the fuck we want.

And it's glorious.

* * *

"So," Isabelle says, "how was your anniversary?"

I adjust my purse's strap and struggle to catch up with my best friend. Curse my short legs. "It was great. We made out and talked and watched _Parks and Rec _and ate pizza."

"That sounds like a dream. What'd you talk about?"

"Oh, you know. Sex. His ex. Why we don't talk about things."

"Jesus, that's depressing." She pauses. "Wait. _Sex_?"

I nod. "He wanted to know why I wasn't doing him."

"What'd you say?"

"That I wasn't ready."

"Is it true?"

"Yeah." Well. I don't know. I _think _that's the truth, anyway. The question's been on my mind since he asked and I answered.

"Come on, Clary. Drop the act."

"What act?"

She rolls her eyes. "You don't wait for things to come to you. You're, like, the least patient person I know."

"But I am for this."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not ready, okay?"

"It's not a big deal," Isabelle says, shrugging.

I stop dead in my tracks. "Wait. Does that mean that you and Simon…?"

She rolls her eyes. "Well, _yeah_. We've been together for a while, you know? He wanted to wait until our official one-year anniversary, but that's still months away, so I told him to just fuck it, you know?"

"Sure. So you've had sex," I add.

"I have."

"What's it like?"

"A little painful, but good. Simon's adorably awkward, but practice makes perfect, you know?"

I cringe. "You're so gross." I take a deep breath. "Look, losing my virginity has never been a huge deal to me, but I have to be feeling up for sex, you know? And I just…haven't."

"Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

Once we reach Java Jones, our new favorite café, she looks over at me with a stern expression. "Can I be totally honest with you?"

"Sure."

"I don't think you're being honest with yourself."

"In what sense?" I ask, frowning.

"Well," she says, "the way I see it, you spent a lot of time liking Jace, you know. And I think that seeing him made you realize that you're never gonna feel the same way about Sebastian, which is why you don't wanna have sex with him."

I groan. "But that's ridiculous. I'm not one of those girls that connect emotional attraction to physical attraction, you know? Like, I'm all for one-night stands and shit."

"But you're in a relationship now," she reminds me. "Connecting them is as easy and subtle as breathing."

"I hate everything. Does this mean I'm never gonna wanna have sex with him?"

"No. You could be really drunk, or you could realize that you don't actually know Jace that well, drop that like it's hot, and actually have a really good, long-lasting relationship with the hot piece of meat that waits for you every single day."

Once we order our coffees, we sit down. We get a booth, thank God. "It's not that easy."

"I know," she says softly. "And I know you liked Jace."

"It's not that," I tell her. "I just—I know that Sebastian is hot, so this might sound insane, but I don't see us having sex, you know? We're just…we're not that couple. We're the couple that dates and never has sex. And I get that he has certain expectations," I add, "but I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that, you know?"

"Well, don't do it just to please him."

"I don't plan on it."

"Do it because you want to, Clary. And if he's not the guy you wanna have sex with, then don't. Just _be _with him. It's not a reason to break up right now."

But it might be for him. "I know."

"Good."

They call her name, and she holds up a finger while she goes to pick up her order. They call mine seconds later, so I wait until she's back and get mine. The taste of coffee is amazing; I don't know how people live without it.

"By the way, Clary," Isabelle says, setting her phone down, "if he ever tries to pressure you, then he's a total asswipe."

"He said he'd wait, but I just don't know if I'll ever be ready."

"Oh, you'll be ready, Fray."

I shake my head. "No, Iz. I meant that I don't know if I'll ever be ready to have sex with _him_."

She shakes her head. "You know, I just don't get it."

"Me neither."

"We can try to break this. I mean, seriously, what're you scared of with him?"

"Well, it's not Jocelyn. It's not that he's unattractive." I chew on my lip. "I guess I'm scared of wanting to be with someone else. Like, if Jace comes back, and Sebstian and I have moved on to this more serious relationship, and Jace wants me to be with him, then I think I'd pick him. And that _terrifies _me, Iz, because I shouldn't be choosing the unstable, unsure parts of my life, you know?"

"But I get why you would. He reminds you of good things."

I groan, running a hand through my hair. "I hate the way I feel and think about this."

"Maybe Simon can help."

"Are you kidding? Do you really want Lewis to be talking to _me _about sex?" I raise my eyebrows. "He's like my second father, Isabelle. You'd be giving him a heart attack."

"Well, I'm just saying. I'm here for you, Clary, but you need to figure this out."

Why can't things be easy for once?

The two of us catch up on what we've missed, and Maia joins us soon. To our surprise, she's smiling hard, and there's a bounce to her step.

Oh, no.

"Jordan and I got back together," she announces, settling down beside Isabelle. "Isn't that awesome?"

"Sure," I say.

"Just be careful," Isabelle replies.

Maia nods. "He and I talked everything over, and it's totally okay. We're working on our separate things, but I just—I needed to be with him, you know?"

The thought of me being like that with Jace makes me cringe. I mean, sure, I do want to be with him, but I don't _need _to. I'm doing just fine right now. Ish. "Sure."

She eyes me. "What's up with you?"

Isabelle answers before I even get the chance to. "She can't have sex with Sebastian."

"I'm pretty sure any girl would kill for that."

"Well, I wouldn't," I mumble. "He's super attractive, but I just don't know if I'm willing to get that serious yet."

"It's been six months, Clary," Maia reminds me.

"Why is that a big deal? Half a year is nothing!"

"It's a lot," she replies.

"The first six are important," Isabelle says, "but the fact that six months have passed shouldn't mean that you immediately turn into a sex machine."

"I want to want to have sex with him, but I'm stuck on Jace." I sigh. "I don't get it, because I _am _happy with Sebastian."

"But not _as _happy," Maia tells me. "That's the key."

I guess it is.

Either way, I'm not breaking up with Sebastian. Sure, I may still be slightly into Jace, but I happen to like what we have. He's patient and lovable and understanding, and I like our relationship. I'm not gonna throw it away for a guy who's never coming back.

* * *

_Okay, so, the part about Seb's ex: it's not an absolutely vital part in the story. I wrote it in so people could see that, even though they are happy together, there are minor setbacks and things that already plant seeds of doubt in the back of her mind. Just because they're happy doesn't mean it's perfect, and it's minor things like this that have a lot of meaning. _

_Anyway, let me know what you think! xo_


	19. All About Us

_Yo holla bitches, it's Ash (IWriteNaked in da house) I'm here to update for my homegirl, rippingbutterflywings because she abandon us until the 14th, or something. WE MISS YOU. I hope you're having a glorious trip, and I look forward to hearing from you soon._

_Anyways, she forgot to send me her AN, and said I could just write one, but I have zero things to say, so yaknow, enjoy the chapter._

* * *

_All About Us - He is We ft. Owl City_

_Take my hand, I'll teach you to dance._

_I'll spin you around, won't let you fall down._

_Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet._

_Give it a try, it'll be alright_

_The room's hush hush and now's our moment._

_Take it in, feel it all and hold it_

_Eyes on you, eyes on me._

_We're doing this right._

_'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love_

_Spotlight's shining. It's all about us_

_It's oh, oh, all_

_About uh, uh, us_

_And every heart in the room will melt_

_This is a feeling I've never felt_

_But it's all about us_

_Suddenly I'm feeling brave_

_Don't know what's got into me_

_Why I feel this way_

_Can we dance real slow?_

_Can I hold you real close?_

_The room's hush hush and now's our moment_

_Take it in, feel it all and hold it_

_Eyes on you, eyes on me_

_We're doing this right_

* * *

"Call us when you get there," Luke says to my mother, giving her a quick kiss before moving on to saying goodbye to Jonathan.

"Bye, Mom." I give her a hug, gripping her tight. I know that she's scared of flying, so I'm trying to help her out here. "I'll see you in a few days."

"And I'll call you both as soon as we land," she says. "But we're gonna be late unless we haul ass and pass through security."

"Bye, guys," I tell the two of them, and they wave back.

"Well." Luke looks at me, his arms crossed. "Looks like it's just the two of us during spring break."

"This means I have to work at the gallery, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it does."

My mom and Jonathan are off to visit the colleges that he got into, so I'm stuck with the big chore of staying in the city and looking after the gallery. Luke has his bookstore, so I'm fully in charge of the gallery—with the help, of course, of my awesome boyfriend and my three best friends.

Thankfully, I've already introduced Sebastian to my family; while I'm still wary, Mom seems to like him, and he thinks she's great. Which is, like, the _worst _whenever I complain to him about her being sucky, but whatever.

My phone rings as we walk towards Luke's car, which is currently being occupied by said awesome boyfriend, who said he'd make sure they didn't move it/give him a ticket. Said awesome boyfriend can't _drive_, but he can look out for the car. Anyway, his eyes light up when he sees me, and the two of us decide to sit in the back.

Luke starts the car and maneuvers his way out of the airport. "I'm dropping you two off at the gallery now," he says. I yawn; it's barely ten am, and we had to get up at eight. Life is torture. "You've negotiated shifts with Isabelle, Simon, and Maia, right?"

"Yup," I reply.

"Thank God." He lets out a breath. "Your mom said that you can take out thirty dollars every day for food."

"God bless," I mutter under my breath.

"And you have to be the one to close, Clary. No one else. And you close at ten."

"Got it."

The rest of the drive is spent listening to music from Luke's favorite radio station. I don't know what it is, but they play classic rock, and it isn't half bad. I lean into Sebastian, and he wraps an arm around me, and I watch as we make our way into Manhattan. I smile at the familiar buildings and the (mostly frustrating) traffic.

I must've dozed off, because the next thing I can register is someone saying my name. "We're here," Sebastian says. "We have to get out of the car."

I wake up and grip the gallery's keys in my hand. "Okay," I say, following him out. "Bye, Luke."

"See you at home, Clary."

It's an unusually chilly day outside—it must be about forty degrees outside—and I welcome the cold. It helps me stay awake. I unlock the front entrance and usher Sebastian in before getting back in and locking it.

"We have to check that everything's in order before actually opening," I tell him.

"Okay," he says.

We check that everything in inventory's okay, that the cash register is empty, etc. Then, I start pulling bills inside the register, and he starts checking that every painting is marked with a price, and then we open. The two of us chill behind the counter.

"So," he starts, and dread creeps up on me, "are we ever gonna talk about the other night?"

I close my eyes and die a little bit. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Clary. We can't just pretend it never happened."

"What never happened?"

He rakes a hand through his hair. "It's not a big deal."

"Then why is it a big deal that we talk about it?"

"Because we need to talk about things. Communication, Clary," he says matter-of-factly.

I roll my eyes at him. "Fine. Okay. Let's talk."

What happened was very, very stupid. I let him take me out to a Mexican place, even though I usually get _really _bad food poisoning after having Mexican food (it's like we're Romeo and Juliet—the love is there, but it cannot be), because it was his birthday in March and he wanted to take me out, so he got to take me out. Yup. Anyway, everything was cool and fine, and he asked me to hang out at his place. Which was, like, awesome. So I went to his house with him, and we chilled in his room, and we were making out _really _hardcore—like, I was topless, and we were seconds away from getting to third base—when I farted.

_Loudly_.

And it stank like a bitch.

And then, of course, because life loves to torture me in the most terrible ways, I ran to his bathroom. And stayed there. Because diarrhea.

And then, because life has CLEARLY NOT HAD ENOUGH torturing me, I clogged his toilet.

Neither one of us had ever unclogged a toilet before, so Sebastian had to call his mom. To explain. Why his toilet. Was clogged.

I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life.

"This is really not worth our free time, Seb," I tell him now, shuddering at the memory. "Really."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Don't start."

"Clary, it happens to the best of us."

"I highly doubt that's ever—or will ever—happen to you, Verlac." I shoot daggers at him.

He sighs. "It's true. But," he adds, "I did take you to that Mexican place after you warned me."

I cover my face with my hands. "I've never felt worse in my entire life."

"Hey." He pries my hands away from my face and looks at me. "Clary Fray, your farts smell like shit, but I dig you anyway."

I sniffle. "That was an excellent pun. And I dig you right back."

He wraps an arm around me. "Just don't fart on me."

I smack his shoulder. "That is _so _not funny."

But the two of us laugh anyway, my head buried in his chest. I can't believe how much has happened in the two months since our six-month anniversary. I thought that I was going to have to end things with him, but he still doesn't mind waiting.

And, honestly, I get more used to the idea of this being a long-term, serious thing all the time. Jace is buried even deeper in my mind as the days go by, and I'm insanely glad to have Seb around.

When our first customer comes in, I greet her. She's coming all the way from Brooklyn and wants to know how we're doing. She was an old customer of Mom's, I guess. I tell her that mom's traveling, that I'm her daughter, and she makes a comment about me being all grown up and I stifle a groan and charm her ass off and she ends up buying two paintings. _Score_.

"You're good at this," Sebastian tells me. "You should sell things."

"Well, that's the very tentative plan so far," I tell him. "You know. I'll either become a teacher or sell my paintings."

"A teacher or an entrepreneur." He nods. "Both very important professions."

I smile up at him. He wants to work in sports journalism/broadcasting. His dream job is to be an anchor at ESPN, which is super nice.

"Yours is much more creative."

"Than an _art _teacher or an _artist_/businesswoman?" He shakes his head. "I don't think so."

"This is why you're my favorite. And, as soon as our shift is over, we are making out hard."

"I'm not in any way, shape, or form opposing to that."

We kick ass at our shift, of course. People like seeing romance in real life, so they ask us questions while looking at paintings. A lot of people my mom used to sell things to come by today, too. I don't know if it's some sort of agreement, because it seems kind of weird that _everyone _is coming by today, but whatever. We lock out at four, which is when Isabelle and Maia come in. Simon was supposed to show up, too, but Isabelle says that he's coming in late.

"Call me if there's an emergency. We're gonna go eat, because we're dying, and then we'll come straight back, okay?"

She nods. "Got it."

The two of us make our way back out into the slightly chilly New York streets. Our hands are clasped tightly together as we walk around aimlessly, trying to figure out where the fuck we're gonna eat.

We end up finding a Panera—and I smile, remembering our first date—and eating there. It's pretty much our place; we've eaten here together more times than I can remember. I love evenings with him and Panera's amazing mac and cheese. I might be more in love with the food than with anything else, but still. Love.

By the time we're done, I feel more energized than I did before. The two of us decide to walk around. He hands me some gum, and we chew on it as we try to find a place to make out. Because, _duh_, we haven't forgotten about that. We thought about going back to the gallery and making out in the storage room, but that'd be weird.

So we find an alley not too far without a homeless person inhabiting it, and the world dissolves. It doesn't even _feel _like we're in a nasty alley; right now, it's just him and me. We throw away our gum, the white color contrasting with the dark pavement, and he looks at me and I look at him and this is really unromantic but we kiss anyway, and we both taste like mint and a little bit like mac and cheese. And it should be gross, but I don't let it feel that way. His lips feel warm, inviting, and my hand cups his neck as I pull him down. I'm already standing on my tiptoes, but still. Sometimes kissing him feels like going on a nice vacation that you want to hang on to forever, but part of the reason you cling to it is because you know it's gonna end.

And he's amazing. I think I may love him, though I've been hesitant with the word and parts of me deny that love with him is even a thing, but I do. I don't know what I would do if something happened to him—hell, I would probably fall apart—and love is the only way to describe the feeling I get when I see his morning texts or when his warm lips meet mine against the cold. There's no other word to describe how I felt last month when I got sick and it was cold and I stayed home and he brought me chicken soup and watched _Bob's Burgers _with me.

I've held on to the word for so long that I feel like I might burst unless I say it out. I break away from him and smile. "You're a great kisser, you know that?"

"It's come up," he says, grinning.

"And you know I love you, right?"

He pulls away for a second, searching my face. "Are you sick?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "No. Why?"

"Because you actually said those words out loud. To me."

My cheeks are a furious shade of red. "I did."

"You know, I thought you weren't ever gonna say them."

"I just needed some time." I take both of his hands with both of mine and tug, bringing him closer. "Now kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am."

He kisses me, and it's different than before. Before I can read too much into it, he breaks away with a smile. "And you know I love you too, right?"

I bite my lip and nod. "Always have."

"Your humility is killing me."

I grin. "Mission complete, then."

"Dork."

"Nerd."

"We should head back," he says, "but all I wanna do is kiss you for a little while longer."

"Then do that."

He does.

By the time I close the gallery, I am exhausted.

I've been up since for_ever_ and my feet hurt and my head is pounding. Luke offered to pick me up, but Sebastian said he'd take me home so that my stepfather didn't have to drive all the way here. It _seemed _like a good idea back when I wasn't dying, but all I want to do now is kill Sebastian and then myself.

I hold on to his arm the entire walk to the subway station. He wraps the other one around me and kisses the top of my head, and we say nothing at all. We're too tired for words as we pass by brick buildings and die because of exhaustion. The wind wakes me up as it cools down, and soon we're at the subway station, making our way in with our MetroCards. Once we're safely inside the train and sitting down, I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. Only three stops until we get off, but that's enough for me to close my eyes and get some of my energy back. I _need _it.

"Are you getting off with me?" I ask Sebastian, not moving.

"Of course," he replies. "I'd be an idiot to make you walk home so late in New York. And I told you I'd take you home."

Our fingers are already intertwined, our hands clasped tightly and on my left thigh, but I give his a squeeze. "Thank you."

By the time we make it to my home, I'm exhausted. The brick building is familiar and welcoming, and we're too tired to say goodbye with a _real _kiss, so our kiss is quick and subtle and I tell him to text me when he gets home and he says he will. I make my way inside my building and drag my body up the stairs and into my apartment, where Luke is waiting for me.

"Hey," he says. "Tired?"

"I'm crashing now so I'm not totally dead at the gallery tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Clary."

"Goodnight, Luke."

My stomach rumbles; I am starved, but I don't care. Sleep is more important than food right now, so I take a water bottle from our fridge, hoping it'll be enough to keep me alive through the night. I shut my door, lock it, and get into bed. I should stay awake until Sebastian texts me. I should change into my pajamas.

But I can't bring my body to move, and I pass out.

* * *

_Camille is off in other countries, doing the thing, but review anyways._

_She said I can reply to any mean reviews that she gets, so bring it on. I'm ready._


	20. Last Hope

_Hi, guys! Sorry for the delay on this update; I had to write this AN __twice because of FFN, and I'm still settling back in from my trip. I've been unpacking and doing laundry and all. Today's been pretty hectic, too; on top of all that, I scheduled a job interview for tomorrow, so I've been working on my resume and preparing and all, and I found out my room assignment/roommate today, so there's that. Anyway, as always, thanks to the awesome IWriteNaked, for being so awesome and supportive and for being the best beta ever and taking care of the last MS chapter for me. You're awesome. Also, shoutout to clarissadele, who's also super amazing and going through a tough time right now bc of her ankle. :( Thanks to LuckyAsLockhart, spikeyhairgood, and DeathCabForMari for being some of the most supportive and lovely people out there. Thank you all for everything. _

_I hope you guys like this chapter!_

* * *

_I don't even know myself at all  
__I thought I would be happy by now  
__The more I try to push it  
__I realize – gotta let go of control_

_Gotta let it happen  
__Gotta let it happen  
__Gotta let it happen  
__So let it happen_

_It's just a spark  
__But it's enough to keep me going  
__And when it's dark out, no one's around  
__It keeps glowing_

_Every night I try my best to dream  
__Tomorrow makes it better  
__Then I wake up to the cold reality  
__And not a thing is changed_

...

_And the salt in my wounds isn't burning anymore than it used to  
__It's not that I don't feel the pain, it's just I'm not afraid of hurting anymore  
__And the blood in these veins isn't pumping any less than it ever has  
__And that's the hope I have, the only thing I know that's keeping me alive_

_..._

_It's just a spark  
__But it's enough to keep me going  
__(So if I let go of control now, I can be strong)  
__And when it's dark out, no one's around  
__It keeps glowing_

"Last Hope" by Paramore

* * *

This is it.

This is the image that's going to stay in the back of my mind for all of eternity, even after I die.

I just went to pee for _one fucking second _and, of course, my two best friends are goin' at it.

On my _bed_.

_MY BED._

It's not just that they're kissing sweetly or whatever. Nah, son. They're, like, totally going for it. They're groping each other and moaning and making weird noises and why, just _why_ did they have to have sex before getting married?

Seriously, that would've been a better fate than this.

"Don't be gross," I tell them, chucking some dirty clothes at them.

"Whatever," Isabelle says. "You're just jealous because _your _boyfriend is out with his friends—"

"His soccer team," I tell her.

She ignores me. "—to celebrate something—"

"Winning the championship."

Ignored again. "—that is totally trivial and so not as important as making out with you. _But_," she says, "whatever."

I roll my eyes. "You're so dramatic, Lightwood."

"Just the way you like me, Fray."

There's a knock on my door. It's my brother, looking like he's about to go out. "Hey," he says. "I'm gonna go to the soccer thing—and yeah, I know I'm an hour late, thanks—so, uh, Mom left us forty bucks on the counter. Order whatever."

"Sure."

He leaves. Isabelle, as always, is staring at his butt as he walks away. I suppress a sigh. "Where's he going to college again?" she asks.

"UConn." I roll my eyes. "So yeah, your favorite butt will be moving away to a different state."

She sighs. "Butt game too strong."

Simon looks at her like she's insane. "I thought we agreed Seb had the best butt."

"Simon, sweetie," she says, placing a hand on his cheek, "you're so innocent."

I bite back a laugh as I watch them turn that moment into a tickling fight. They're obnoxiously cute. Sometimes I'm reminded of the subtle differences between me and Seb and the two of them—the most prominent and obvious one being the sex thing. The status of that issue has definitely improved; we've been discussing it as a Real Thing That's Happening as opposed to something I'll never get around to agree on.

He's been pushier lately, and I get why. Even the most patient people can get impatient. We've been dating for nine months, give or take a few weeks, which is, like, an entire pregnancy, which means that he and I, going by the "typical teenage crap" standards, _should _have had sex.

But we haven't. And it's torture.

It's torture for me because it's torture for him. By this point, I _want _to have sex. I get so close to it that it physically hurts to push him away, but I'm just scared of doing it wrong. Of being with another guy and thinking, _Damn, I really wish he would've been my first time_.

Whatever. I don't need to decide right now. The three of us are reviewing for finals, which start on Monday, and it's Friday. And we're dorks, basically, because Sebastian's out celebrating and giving zero fucks about anything while I'm working my ass off to pass Chemistry with a decent C.

By the time my friends decide to take a break, I decide that I'm frustrated. Not only is all of this crap we have to bottle up inside our minds so we can pass a test that can shape our future _utter bullshit_, but I'm also pretty sure that I suck so hard at it that I might fail.

Life sucks. I want this school year to end.

* * *

The week of finals goes by at a fast pace, but it tortures me all the same.

I feel free by the end of it. Sebastian comes over after school and we make out on my bed and then we go out (to Panera, obviously, because what else is there?) and then we walk around New York City. We have two years left of high school, and I don't know what's coming in the future, but I do know that I've liked the days I've spent holding his hand.

We run into my mom as he drops me off.

"I'll see you upstairs, Clary," she says, smiling smugly. Damn her.

After she's inside the building, I look at my boyfriend. The air is hot, and I want to go up to turn on my AC. "I'll see you soon?"

He nods. "And I'll text you once I'm home."

I give him a kiss. Quick and sweet. "I love you."

"I love you too, Clary Fray."

I walk up the stairs in a daze, because it feels good to have somebody kiss you and love you and do all of those things even while knowing how fucked up some parts of your life are. He doesn't know _everything_, of course—he doesn't even know some of the things my mom has said and done, nor does he know how I feel about certain things—but he knows enough. And I love that he's stayed.

"So," Mom says, "how serious are you two?"

I groan, but she pats the empty seat beside her on the couch, and I sit, slumping a bit. I'm exhausted and hot and I want to take a shower and be in my bed with the AC on. I definitely don't wanna talk about this right now, but Jocelyn isn't having it. Damn.

"It's not _that _serious."

"What does that mean?"

I look at her. "What are you _really _asking?"

She sighs. "Have you two had sex?"

Oh dear Lord in heaven. "Nope."

She narrows her eyes at me, suspicious. Unbe_freaking_lievable. "Really?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Yeah, Mom. Really. Contrary to popular belief—and to what Simon and Isabelle may reflect—teenagers are not always humping like bunnies. Sometimes we talk. Or just kiss. Or hang out. We do things that are not sex." Sarcasm drips from my voice. "Can I go now?"

Before I manage to stand, though, she places a hand on my shoulder and sits me right back down. _Frick_. "Not quite. I still want you to go on the pill."

I snap my head up. "What? Why?"

"I'm just being cautious."

"Then give me some condoms."

"I left some on your bed."

"Oh my God, Mom."

"What?" She looks at me with an innocent expression on her face. "I planned this out."

I shake my head. "Seb and I aren't having sex, Mom. I don't know if we will for a while."

She shakes her head right back. "That's great and all, but I want you to be careful."

"Which is why there are, apparently, condoms on my bed." I stand up. "I have to go shower and then pass out."

She sighs. "Don't forget that you're helping me out at the gallery starting next week."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Goodnight, Clary."

I close the door to my room, take out clean socks, panties, and pajamas, grab my towel, and make my way into the bathroom. Even when it's hot out, I like showering with hot water. If anything, it just makes walking into a cold room that much better. Anyway, once I'm out of the shower and in my room, I see that Seb has sent me one of his "I'm alive, at home, NOT DEAD" texts, which I always ask him to send me. I smile, send him a smiley face back, turn off my lights, and fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

Summer is a collection of memories, and, like all good, realistic collections of memories, it is diverse.

There are memories I can't grab a hold of, memories that slip from my hand like sand through my fingers. They're unimportant, unmemorable. They're the things you forget happened.

But then there are memories that play in my head with colors and sounds and images. Maia, Isabelle, Simon, and myself, playing Cards Against Humanity. Jordan and Seb joining us. The sounds of laughter echo in my mind. The image of us throwing our heads back, roaring with laughter, is the most prominent one. Us going out to the city, to ridiculous places like the wax museum and haunted places. We watch a show on Broadway and attend two concerts and go to a few parties, where I watch my boyfriend get drunk off his ass and hit on me as if I were a stranger.

I remember jumping into pools at nighttime and sneaking into houses so as to not wake anybody up. Sleeping in Jordan's basement, because he lives in a real house, where we spent two days. We drank Smirnoff Ice (my favorite is the green apple one; I can still taste it on my tongue) and I slept with Sebastian and the feeling of him against me was welcoming.

We played Clue and Monopoly and Parcheesi and video games and there was laughter and a _lot _of kissing (and a lot of other things, too—pretty much everything but sex). There were cute dates and Sebastian and I seeing each other naked for the first time and loud music blaring as we played Rock Band and it was unforgettable but mundane all at once.

And now here we are. The end.

And the end comes with me saying goodbye to my brother at the airport. We hug each other awkwardly, and he and Luke say they'll call when they land. My mom and I stay behind this time; she doesn't want to embarrass him by crying her eyes out at his college. We watch them disappear through security and head back into the car, and she's trying to hide the tears that pool in her eyes.

I prop my feet up on the dashboard of Luke's car and listen to my iPod, because my mom and I are not in the mood for talking. We go home, and I make myself some ramen noodles while she shuts herself inside her room. Sebastian and I text the whole time; I update him on my mother's dramatic, emotional behavior. I think it's weird to get sad when your kid is moving on to greener pastures, but whatever. Just as long as she doesn't cry when _I _go to college—at least not publicly—then I'll be fine.

I watch the pilot of _The 100 _on Netflix as I eat my ramen noodles and text my friends and boyfriend. We start school next week, and I'm not ready. I don't want this summer to end. Maybe it hasn't all been good—I remember fighting with Sebastian and thinking that maybe ending things would be for the best; I remember being so angry at my friends that I had to distance myself from them and not talk to them; I remember hating my mother so much that I swore to myself I would leave and never turn back—but it's been better than what the next school year will be like, probably.

As far as summers go, it hasn't been the worst.

But all good things must come to an end, they say, and I watch the show with the warmth of food comforting me. Maia texts me about a fight she's having with Jordan, but I let Isabelle and Simon comfort her—God bless group chats, honestly—as I distract myself. I _want _to give a fuck about her relationship, but I kind of don't. I mean, Jordan's awesome, but they're terrible together. He's that kind of person, the one you see by himself and think that you want to be his friend more than anything, and then you are, and it's great, but then you realize that he's not a hero and that he sucks as a boyfriend. Whatever, though. He was still fun to hang out with this summer.

I look at the time. It's almost three, and it's such a pretty day outside. I love watching _The 100_—I've already made it to the second episode—but I want to have some time with my boyfriend before the craziness of junior year envelops us and ends up with us barely seeing each other.

When he agrees on meeting up outside in an hour, I get dressed while watching the show, still giddy and all. I wouldn't say that things have necessarily changed between us, but we know more about each other—specifically what makes us angry. It makes me act more careful, but I don't mind, really.

He's the kind of person I'm willing to be careful for.

I announce my departure to my mother, dump the empty Styrofoam cup in the trash, take my phone with me, and walk outside, welcoming the last few moments of summer.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_

_By the way, Jace comes back next chapter. Just sayin'. _


	21. Winter

_Hey, guys! I just wanna say a quick thank you to IWriteNaked for being the best beta and always being gr9. As always, thanks to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, and LuckyAsLockhart for also being awesome all the time. :) _

_Important AN at the bottom_

* * *

_Drifting apart like two sheets of ice, my love  
__Frozen hearts growing colder with time  
__There's no heat from our mouths  
__Please take me back to my refuge_

_And we were in flames, I needed, I needed you  
__To run through my veins, like disease, disease  
__And now we are strange, strangers_

_It's different now  
__Gray-faced  
__Eyes burnt out  
__Flames are gone  
__Gloves are on  
__I have a feeling  
__Love's gone mad_

...

_Oh, winter comes_  
_Oh, winter crush all of the things that I once loved_

"Winter" by Daughter

* * *

"I just can't believe you can eat this much chocolate in the morning and not die," Isabelle says, looking at Sebastian with an eyebrow raised. I, on the other hand, am just concerned about the amount of brownies my boyfriend is stuffing in his mouth.

We're at Java Jones, obviously. It's the first day of our junior year, and we left our homes early so we could stop by and have a relaxing breakfast. It's just Isabelle, Maia, Simon, Sebastian, and me right now. Alec and Magnus are off at college—they're studying in California, I think; I haven't really asked—and so is my brother. Which is great, actually, because I'm an only child, and I get to tell Luke and Mom, "But you let _Jonathan _do those things when he was my age." It's pretty awesome.

"It's simple," Sebastian says. "I have to be on a diet—ish—when the season starts, so I stuff my face with candy and dangerous things 24/7 while I can."

"An example to follow, really," I comment.

He grins at me. "You love it."

"Unfortunately."

Isabelle throws a hash brown at me. "Stop being gross."

"I've said that to you and Simon plenty of times. While you made out. _On my bed_."

"Point taken," she replies.

We eat in peace together, but I know we're not all at peace. I glance at Maia every once in a while and try to say something to make her smile, whether it's a simple compliment or a joke or _something _because seeing one of my best friends look so broken is tearing at my heart.

What happened was that people don't change, apparently, so Jordan got drunk and so did she and they got into a fight and he hit her and she broke up with him. And it was sad, because they'd been getting along, but there was no going back. I could tell. I woke up the next day and she'd called me three times. When I called her back, I could barely understand her, she was crying so hard. So I brought her over to the apartment and we watched comedies—without romance—and ate tons of ice cream and she cried and I felt like crying right back, but I didn't. This happened only three weeks ago, so the pain is still fresh. And Jordan went off to college last week—off to Texas to study God-knows-what—but she's still here, and she sees him everywhere we go.

I know the feeling of losing someone suddenly and in the worst kind of way, but I can't say that our pain compares. She actually put some effort into making it work that second time. I don't doubt that he did, too, but we are who we are in the end, I guess, and maybe he hadn't gotten enough help or hadn't lost something that hit him hard enough to set him straight, but this is how it ended.

You wouldn't know that she feels like shit unless you actually _know _her. She looks put together and pretty, as per usual, and she looks tough, and not at all like her heart feels like it's been stomped on and run over. I know that, right now, she just wants a distraction from everything, but I can't stop thinking about the things I wish I had the courage to tell her, like how brave she is for everything and how she's gonna be okay because there are billions of boys in the world and there has got to be at least _one _that's better than Jordan.

After we finish eating, we go straight to school. It's pretty close, actually, but walking there in the heat when I'm wearing jeans is exhausting. Once we make it inside, I buy myself a water bottle in the cafeteria. We drop our bags off near the library and make our way into the multipurpose room, where the yearly assembly is being held.

The principal talks about how we are a great group of students attending a private school, and that we are lucky that we don't have to wear uniforms, and that we're young, but responsible, and that we have to make the best out of our year. She throws a lot of random stuff in there, probably to incentivize the new students and whatnot. Sebastian grabs my hand and starts tracing circles on my palm, and I smile as I look at the backs of people's heads (I'm not actually tall enough to get a look at the principal).

After the assembly ends, I go pick up my schedule. I worked pretty hard to get the classes I wanted, so I smile as I look at the selection on the paper. I'm gonna die, but I'm gonna die happy.

Homeroom: Mr. Hastings  
AP US History  
Spanish III  
Snack  
AP English Literature  
Physics  
AP Studio Art  
Lunch  
Algebra II  
Science Fiction Literature

We'd all agreed to meet where our bags were, so I walk in the direction of the library as I folded my schedule. I'm a little nervous, not gonna lie. Physics and Algebra II are gonna kick my ass.

Sebastian is beside me in seconds. He looks like he's been jogging, which is just utterly ridiculous, but whatever. "Let's see it."

"Algebra II," I say. "That's it."

"Our Spanish and science pattern's been broken."

"Don't worry," I tell him with a grin. "You'll still be my tutor."

"Just as long as I get to pick the payment method."

Someone clears her throat behind me. Isabelle. "Gross," she says, standing beside me to compare our schedules.

"Homeroom, Spanish, AP Lit, and Physics."

"Not bad," she replies. "Simon and Maia are fixing something in theirs."

"I'll tell him to text me a picture of both. We have to get to homeroom," I say, whirling around to look at Sebastian. "See you at lunch?"

He gives me a quick kiss. "Of course."

Isabelle and I walk to homeroom. "So," I say. "Junior year."

"Hell year, according to pretty much everyone."

I let out an unenthusiastic "yay" as we make our way into homeroom. We sit in the back, as per usual, in a corner. I sit in front of her and turn back to face her.

"How do you think Maia's doing?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "That girl is impossible to read, but I'm guessing she's heartbroken. It's pretty obvious that she was head over heels in love with that guy."

"Yeah. I wish we could do something for her, but she's strong."

"She is. Also," she adds, "have you and Sebby done the nasty yet?"

My eyes widen, and I whirl around to make no one heard what she said. "Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, you're dead."

She erupts into a fit of giggles. "What? It's a legitimate question."

I roll my eyes. "No, we haven't."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I know that you and Simon _love _that ass—believe me, so do I—but I don't know. We've had some chances, but none of them have seemed like _the _time yet."

She smiles. "There isn't a perfect time, you know. If you want it, just go for it. Don't wait until the world shows you a sign, because it'll be just as if it hadn't." However, just as she says that, her eyes go wide. She's looking at something behind me, but she grabs my hand before I can turn around to see. God, it's like a scary movie. "So," she says, her tone light, "you know how we were talking about signs? And how you shouldn't, you know, pay attention to them?"

"What's behind me, Iz?"

We're whispering furiously. "Well, uh, I don't actually know how this is even possible, but see for yourself." She releases my arm and nods.

But, the thing is, I already know what it is. And I don't wanna look back.

When you build a life for yourself, a life that you're happy with, reminders of the life you led before can be destructive. They can get you to regress, to feel things you left buried in the deepest corners of your mind. And I know that, if I take one look at Jace Wayland, who is definitely standing or sitting or doing _something _behind me, I will fall apart.

But I know I'll have to do it eventually. I remind myself that hiding from the things I'm afraid of makes me a coward, and then I turn around.

He's sitting diagonally from me; there are no other seats available, it seems, and so he's here, so close I can barely breathe. I saw him months ago, but that was so far away. Now he's _here_.

_Why?_

I turn back to look at Isabelle, who just shrugs. "Ask Seb if he can find out."

I pull out my phone and type up a text, but they all sound desperate. He'd know something's up, and I don't want that. I put my phone away. "Has Simon sent you a picture of his schedule?"

"Yeah. He didn't send one to you?"

"I haven't gotten one."

"He sent me one of Maia's too." She hands me her phone. The first one has his name on top of it in capital letters. We have AP US History and Sci-Fi Lit together, but that's pretty much it. As for Maia, we have Spanish III and Algebra II together.

It's not too bad, but still.

When the bell for homeroom finally rings, Mr. Hastings stands up. I don't really know him or about him, and his introduction pretty much explains why. He says he's new here, that he's looking forward to have us as his homeroom…blah, blah, blah. Because today is so hectic, he reads us the announcements, and now we have the rest of this time to chill.

I move my desk closer to Isabelle's. "This is gonna be the worst year."

"I'm just confused about one thing."

"Only one?" I raise an eyebrow.

She ignores me. "Why is he in our homeroom? Isn't he a year older?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

Before I can figure out how to get any answers, the bell rings. I take my schedule with me. Room 207. I groan and make my way up the stairs and onto the second floor. Once I'm in the room, I pick a seat near the back.

And, wouldn't you know it, Jace walks right in too.

It happens after Simon settles into the seat beside me. He starts telling me something, but it slips my mind when I see his face.

Damn.

"Earth to Clary." Simon snaps his fingers in front of my face. "What the hell are you—oh."

"Yup. Oh is right."

"What the hell—"

"No clue."

He glares at me. "Will you let me finish?"

I roll my eyes. "Sorry. Didn't know you were pissy today."

"I'm not. Just…confused, I guess."

"About him?"

He shakes his head. "Something happened. I mean, yeah, this whole thing's super confusing, but I have to tell you something."

"Okay. Shoot."

"Not now. It has to be us."

"Are you going to Isabelle's after school? I could go along."

He shakes his head again. "Izzy can't know yet."

I frown. That doesn't seem good. "I can pretend to need your help for something during snack time?"

Simon lets out a breath and nods. "Sounds good. What, though?"

I shrug. "I'll figure it out."

Throughout our interaction, my heart rate has not slowed down. It still beats way too fast, like a wild thing fighting to get out of its cage. Our AP US History teacher introduces himself, but I'm not listening to what he's saying. I catch things like "syllabus"—thick document that's placed on my desk moments later—and "test" and "reading," but I can't really focus. This is a problem.

This is what I want:

I want to ask him what he's doing here. Why he's back. Why he's back _now_, precisely, when my life is going so well and I have a boyfriend and everything. I want to ask him why he didn't tell me he was coming back when I saw him, or why he hasn't said a word to me.

I want to ask him if he hates me.

But I can't do anything. I am paralyzed by fear, and the bell rings too soon, so I make my way into Spanish III, which I share with Isabelle. She looks at my face and bites her lip.

"You okay?"

"Not even slightly."

"You need to get it together, you know," she tells me. Once she sees my glare, she sighs. "I'm only saying it because your boyfriend will be wondering why the hell his girlfriend is acting so sketchy, and you can't give him a half-assed answer. Have you even told him about Jace yet?"

I haven't. "He knows everything except that it was him."

"Well, if you keep acting like this, he's gonna figure it out."

I'm well aware of that, but I don't tell her. Our Spanish teacher walks into the classroom and apologizes for not having been here. She's had to switch rooms, apparently. Anyway, she starts her class, hands us a syllabus, and talks to us about everything, and my conversation with Isabelle is over.

Just like that.

When the bell rings, I remember about Simon. "Hey, I have to borrow Simon during snack. You can keep Seb, though. You can even stare at his butt."

She looks like she's about to laugh as she picks up her bag. "What do you need Simon for, anyway?"

Crap. "I just need him to help me with something with administration. I'd rather starve him than you."

She places a hand on her chest. "I'm so touched. See you later."

We part ways, and I call Simon. "Where are you?" I ask as soon as he picks up.

"By the library. Did you tell Izzy you were coming with me?"

"Yeah. We're doing administrative stuff. This," I add, "is so weird."

"Just meet me down here."

After I do as he says, we walk to a little lobby area on the third floor. Isabelle likes to spend her snack time with the crowd downstairs on the first day—maybe even on the first week—so we're safe up here, especially since it's so far from the stairs.

"What's up, Si?" I set my bag down and sit on one of the chairs.

"Here." He hands me a snack, and I thank him. "Well," he continues, "I was scared of telling anybody this, because I'm sure it was harmless, and I don't want any trouble or drama."

"Spill it," I urge him.

Simon sighs. "You know how Maia and I went to the office together?"

"Sure."

"Well…" He lets his voice trail off and shuts his eyes. I'm pretty sure I have a clear picture forming in my head, and it's not good. "She hit on me."

"What'd she do?"

"Tried flirting with me. And kissing me."

Yup. That's definitely blunt and not at all vague, which is what I'd hoped.

I sigh. "She's in a bad place right now, Si."

"But why me? I'm with Isabelle."

I shake my head. "She's not thinking rationally."

"I don't wanna fuck anything up. She's my friend, but…"

Yeah. "I know." I pause for a second. "Why didn't you wanna tell Izzy?"

"Are you kidding?" He raises an eyebrow. "Look, Isabelle isn't a jealous person, but this isn't a matter of assumption. This actually _happened_, and, once she has that, she will turn Maia inside out for even thinking of trying to do anything with me, especially after I turned her away." He closes his eyes. "I just wish she hadn't done that. I wanna talk to Isabelle, but it's not gonna turn out well. I don't wanna pit them against each other, you know?"

I nod. I do know. But I also know this: "Honesty," I tell him, "is more important than anything else. If you wanna have a good relationship with Iz, then you have to tell her."

He buries his head in his hands. I wish there was something I could do to make this choice easier for him, but it's a dilemma that's not easy to solve. I don't know what I'd do, and I'm glad that it's not my choice to make, but I wish I had the wisdom to tell him exactly what to do.

Simon looks up at me. "How's your situation?"

I shrug. "I don't know anything. I have to talk to Sebastian to see if he's found out anything, but I'm not even sure how to bring it up casually."

He frowns. "Does he not—"

I shake my head. "Doesn't have a clue."

He sighs. "That's fucked."

"It is."

We stay there in silence, listening to each other eat. I think that we both feel too heavy to speak, so we let our thoughts run wild as our bodies are stuck in place. I don't think I've fully registered that the guy I've shed so many tears over is _here_, but that's mainly because I'm focused on _why _and _when _and so many different things.

But the whys. The whys are killing me.

Why hasn't he talked to me?

Why is here?

Why is he in our grade?

Why?

They're not many questions, but they're eating up at me. When the bell rings, I'm glad for the opportunity to bolt. I feel like running just to get rid of the ache in my chest, but I don't know where I'd go.

Isabelle is already in AP English Lit when I arrive, and I sit beside her. There is a question in the way she looks at me, and I turn around to see what it is.

"Have you found out anything?"

"Nope."

"Good," she says. "Because I have."

* * *

Over the span of AP English and Physics, Isabelle tells me all she knows.

Of course, she went ahead and asked my boyfriend, who thought she was just gossiping for the hell of it. So he told her that Jace's mom got fired from her job, and she found a new one in the city, and her boyfriend wanted to move back anyway, so they hauled ass to the city, and here they are.

That's it. That's the only explanation he gave.

Whatever. It's very anticlimactic, but I don't hang on to the idea of there being more to it than that. Also, he's in my AP English Lit class, which I realized a second too late thanks to Isabelle, and I almost fell to pieces. Jesus Christ, I am a big, fat mess.

AP Studio Art is my class alone. My time to decompress. I sit in a corner and doodle in my sketchbook as the teacher drones on and on about the techniques we'll be looking at and everything. It seems like this is gonna be my kind of class, which is good, because I was 0.5 seconds away from giving up on everything.

I hear someone giggle beside me. I look up to find the teacher already sitting down; we must have free time the rest of the period. I take out my phone, and I'm halfway through texting Sebastian about my perpetual state of boredom when I register that the girls are talking about Jace.

"Well," one of them says, "my friend went to his school, and she said that he was the best lay there was. He uses girls and drops them. Well," she adds, "if that's what I'm getting, sign me up."

Her friend laughs. "I'll take your sloppy seconds."

Gross. Some girls are so weird. I look back down at my phone and text Isabelle.

_So apparently Jace was a man-whore._

I get a text merely seconds later. _I know. I didn't wanna tell you, but yeah._

Well, hell.

_What do you know_?

She replies seconds later. _The standard. He slept with a truckload of girls at his old school and is already flirting with everyone and their mother around here._

How did I not see that?

I receive another message shortly afterwards. _Fuck him. (And not literally.) You have Sebby._

I do. But I haven't been sleeping around or anything—though I suppose one serious relationship speaks volumes more than a few lays.

Why am I _thinking _like this? Like he still matters? God.

I text Isabelle something about her meeting me outside the AP Studio Art classroom. She's there when I leave the class, and I try not to look as stricken as I feel.

"Pull yourself together," she tells me. "Focus on Seb, okay?"

If only it were that easy. I nod anyway, and we walk to the cafeteria. Simon's already at our table, and I've noticed that Maia's absent. Oh well. I sit next to Sebastian, and he puts an arm around me. I smile up at him.

"Did you guys solve that thing during snack?" Seb asks.

I'm confused for a second before I remember: our excuse. "Yup," I say. "All done."

"What was it?" Izzy asks.

_Goddamn_. "Just an error with my account."

She frowns. "On the first day?"

"I know, right?"

I feel like shit for lying to her, but I'm doing it for Simon's sake. I sneak a glance at him, and the look on his face tells me that he's gonna talk to her. That he understands.

Good.

"Hey," Sebastian says, his voice a little lower. "Do you wanna come over today?"

If I say no, then that'll just make me seem shadier. Besides, he makes me feel better. Happier. So I nod, plaster and smile on my face, and say, "I'd love nothing more."

He gives me a quick kiss, and then we talk about our days as we eat, and it's awesome to hear about their classes. It's distracting.

Until Sebastian mentions the freakin' soccer team.

"We're trying out next week," he says. "And I think the team will be really good this year. I'm just bummed that it takes up most of my time." He looks at me while he says it, and I lean into him. "But I love it."

"Yeah," Isabelle says. "But you two will be fine."

"Always will be," he replies.

And, oh my God, it hurts to hear him say that.

It reminds me of a conversation I had with Isabelle when she and Simon were just starting to have sex on a regular basis. I'd asked her if it made her feel like she was making a bigger commitment, and she said that it just felt like fun.

I just need to make this fun.

I look at my friends, and then back at him. "I need to talk to you in private," I say in a low voice.

"Okay. Let's go someplace else."

I say bye to my friends, grab his hand, and walk out of the cafeteria. The two of us make our way out into the relatively empty hallways. I feel like running, and he walks fast, so I go along with him, and we make it to the very end.

"Hi," I say, slightly breathless.

"Hey," he replies.

"Um." I'm suddenly nervous. "So I'm ready."

He raises an eyebrow. "For?"

I roll my eyes at him, but smile. "Just tell me you have condoms."

His eyes widen. "Really?"

I nod. "Uh-huh."

"I do," he says, smiling at me. "At my house?"

"No one will be there, right?"

He shakes his head. "Both of my parents work."

I smile. "Okay. Good."

We're standing beside a closet, and the two of us eye it at the same time. The air has changed. I kind of want to do this now.

He looks at me, and I say, "Yup," and he opens the closet with force—

—to reveal Jace. Making out with a girl I don't know.

"Occupied," he says, annoyed.

Sebastian raises his hands up in the air, a gesture of innocence. "Sorry, dude."

I want to do him _now_.

Because fuck all of that. I think I was holding onto something that was never really there. And it all hits me so fast and hard that I want to forget.

But I can't. He kisses the top of my head. "Let's get our bags, okay?"

I nod, disappointed. There are other closets, but whatever. "Okay."

* * *

Here are the things that make me angry before I have sex:

Jace was in my Sci-Fi Lit class, and he glared at me the entire time.

Jace was making out with the same girl near the lockers when I left.

He hasn't spoken to me.

Or told me why.

And it all builds up inside of me, like a storm waiting to unleash. Like a beast ready to escape its cage. And, when Sebastian closes the door to his apartment, I pull him down and press our lips together.

The two of us have learned to fit together. We've done things so many times that it's natural, like breathing. Only this time we won't stop. We'll keep going. That's the only thing that's gonna change. We've seen each other naked a ton of times before, but he stops this time to look at me—_really _look at me—and he says he loves me and plants kisses on my lips, my jawline, my neck, and down my chest. And I think: what was I so afraid of before? He's here like he's been a billion times before, naked and hot and very much in love, and I'm not gonna lose him.

But then I think of Jace, glaring at me and being a little shit in general, and I get mad again. In a way, I'm glad that the anger's there; it makes me bolder, makes me speed up this process. But I don't want to feel angry.

Sebastian kisses me at the same time he enters me, and it all falls away. Just like that. It's not that the anger isn't there, or that it disappeared, but I've lost it and replaced it with something. I feel a little bit of pain, and I let out a gasp, so he stops.

"You okay?"

I nod, biting my lip, and he keeps going. And I just remembered why I've been with him for almost a year. He keeps me grounded, happy. He takes me to a stage of bliss when rage had coursed through my veins just seconds before.

He's the one I wanna be with.

He tells me he loves me and kisses my lips softly before lying down beside me. We're both breathing heavily, and there's a stupid smile on my face. I'm not gonna lie, it did hurt. And I might be a little in shock.

But it was good. I eye his profile, and then he meets my gaze and wraps an arm around me. I snuggle up to him, my head on his chest, and I can't believe I didn't do this before.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He's tracing patterns on my exposed shoulder.

I nod. "I'm okay." I'm tracing patterns on his chest with a smile.

"Do you wanna sleep?"

I nod again. I'd told my mom that I was gonna be out until late, so we set an alarm for six thirty, close the blinds, lock the door, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

_So hiii, guys. I wanted to write a longer AN here (rather than up there) because of spoilers and stuff. _

_That being said, I know that this chapter has a lot of things going on, so I'll talk about them now. _

_Jace is backkkk! However, the fact that he's back doesn't mean he's going to immediately interact with Clary again. In fact, it's kind of the opposite. It's why I wanted there to be so much time in between what happened with them initially and him coming back. The truth is, a lot of time has passed (like three years), and that means that he's gone through a lot while having this in the back of his mind. When you let things fester, and when things continue to impact you for a long time, they become bigger (emotionally) than what they are if you confront them immediately. It's just how things work. And, with them dealing with this for three years without each other and without communicating their feelings, they've definitely got reasons to behave the way they do. Jace was the one who got hurt initially, so, naturally, he's going to want to stay away from her, and you'll definitely see that a lot in MS. Clary, on the other hand, has this overwhelming sense of guilt, and this insane need to make things right between them because of it. So...yeah. _

_As for Clary + Sebastian having sex...I know that it's pretty bad that they didn't do it for the typical reasons. I know. But, if you consider this, she **does **love him. She may not be **in **love with him, but that doesn't really matter. Yes, part of the reason she went ahead and did it was because she was pissed and frustrated and hurt, and that's never a good reason to do most things, but this kind of thing depends on the person. Clary, as a character, has spent a few months readying herself for sex with Seb. This was just a catalyst_—_a bad one, yes, but a catalyst nonetheless. Some of you might see that as wrong, but that's just the way it happened for her, just as it's happened this way to tons of people. Besides, it's just sex. It's not that big a deal. _

_I just wanted to clarify those two points. **Please, take a moment to read this before you ask any questions related to either subject.** As always, I'm happy to talk about the story/answer any questions. _

_Thank you for reading! _

_Let me know what you think! X_


	22. Into Your Arms

_So hiiii. I'm super happy to be updating today! Yay! I've had a ton of inspiration for this story recently, which is obviously pretty great, as I'm glad to keep sharing it with you without any interruptions. Anyway, as always, thanks to my awesome beta and friend, IWriteNaked, because a) she's awesome for beta'ing this, and b) she got me the BEST PRESENTS EVER for our anniversary and like...I got a mug that says MALE TEARS, you guys. MALE TEARS. It's my favorite. Ash, you're my favorite and you're gr9. Thank you so much for everything. Also, of course, thanks to spikeyhairgood, for leaving the best reviews ever (and for being the best WS Clary/Asshole Aunt/Big Sister anyone could ever ask for), and to DeathCabForMari and LuckyAsLockhart, for also being gr9 and being such good friends. I love you alllll. _

_Also, to the Guest who reviewed this morning (I think) and said "__PLZ WRITE ANOTHER CHAPTER AND THEN EMAIL ME OR SOMETHING PLZ": here's the next chapter! I can't really email you (because, you know, you're a guest reviewer), but message me if you ever make an account or something! :) _

_Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. :) _

* * *

_I'm falling in love  
__But it's falling apart  
I need to find my way back to the start  
When we were in love  
Oh, things were better than they are  
Let me back into  
Into your arms_

"Into Your Arms" by The Maine

* * *

"There's no way," I say, shaking my head.

"Come on," he begs, giving me his best, cutest puppy dog eyes.

"No. No way. Come on." I take his hand and lead him to where the catalog is. "We're taking this to my place and deciding there."

Sebastian sighs. "Fiiiiine."

"We are _not _going dressed as soccer players."

"You're the worst," he says.

"You love me."

He gives up the charade and kisses me softly. "That I do."

We make our way out of Party City, catalog in hand, and walk towards the subway. Halloween is next week, and we _still _haven't found a costume. We're doing a couple's thing, of course, but since my (un)original friends decided to go as Superman and Superwoman, we're back to looking.

We make our way inside the apartment, get some leftover soda from the pantry, and sit on the couch. We look at the catalog, and I'm disappointed; it's mostly boring stuff.

"Oooh! The Addams family!"

"The what?"

I glare at him. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know what that is."

"What in the actual heck is _wrong _with you?"

He shrugs. "Ask my workaholic parents."

I sigh. "Okay. We'll keep looking." I gasp. "Beetlejuice!"

"Not bad. Mark that."

I doggy ear the page and move on. "Nurse and doctor?"

He shrugs again. "Mark it."

"Mario and Luigi?"

"Mark it."

We narrow it down to Beetlejuice, nurse and doctor, Mario and Luigi, policeman and policewoman, and sailors. We settle on policeman and policewoman. It's not really the one I want, but whatever.

After that, we cuddle for a while watching _Courage the Cowardly Dog_, which is one of my favorite cartoons, and then he leaves. We kiss goodbye, but that's it. I wonder if I should've taken advantage of the fact that there's no one home, but whatever.

I still prefer to have sex at his place.

He finds it weird, but he doesn't complain. At least he's getting laid, right? Anyway, I drink some water, watch another episode on my laptop, and then start studying. It's eight o'clock, and I have a Sci-Fi Lit discussion and a Spanish quiz, so I have to annotate things and practice, so I end up in bed by eleven.

Even then, I can't sleep. Something about today bothers me, but I can't quite figure it out. I've just been so _annoyed_, but whatever. I'm probably about to get my period or something, which is even worse. I'm supposed to have another week and a half left.

I text Isabelle, but she seems to be sleeping, so I listen to "Asleep" by The Smiths until it lulls me to sleep.

* * *

After what turned out to be the week of hell is over (we had to write five essays for AP Lit, took two quizzes for Spanish, had a discussion and a quiz for Sci-Fi lit, an experiment in Physics, a lab in Algebra II, eighty or so pages of reading to do for APUSH, and a painting due yesterday), I slept for thirteen hours. And now, on Saturday, I'm getting ready with Isabelle, Simon, and Sebastian.

The former had gotten here before, walking hand-in-hand. Sebastian and I had sex before they showed up—even though it's my house—but whatever. We didn't get to cuddle or anything because he was late with the costumes.

"I'm gonna go change," I say after Simon exits the bathroom. I walk in myself, phone in hand, and begin to change. There's fishnet stockings involved (I am going to freeze) and a tight little leather black dress. It fits me, but it's so short that it's basically a shirt. I put on my little hat, my curls softened by the straightener we used. The shirt is long sleeved, thank God, but its neck deepens so that you can see my boobs. I don't have much to begin with, so I had to use a mega push up bra so as to not embarrass myself in front of the whole graduating class (and, of course, the other three graduating classes). I put on the little belt, tuck the gun inside the holster, and make sure the handcuffs are visible. When I look at myself in the mirror, I realize that I look very, very hot. And different.

I put on my boots. They have a thick heel, thank God, and only reach my ankle. I love them. After I'm sure that my outfit is complete, I exit the room.

"Damn," my boyfriend says, letting out a whistle. Despite everything, he makes me smile. "You look so hot."

"I know." I grin back at him.

"Seriously, Clary. You might become the new best butt with this outfit. Simon!" Isabelle calls out, and our best friend rushes in. "Best butt, or no?"

He nods. "Definitely."

I blush. "Stoooop."

She grins. "We're almost ready."

After the whole thing happened with Maia, Simon came clean to Isabelle, who admitted that Maia had told her while the two of us were "working on administrative stuff" on the first day. She wasn't mad that he took a while longer to tell her, because she knows that he just wanted to do so while trying not to piss her off. And he did it, like, later that day, so it's fine. Sure, Isabelle was wary of leaving Maia with Simon alone, but that feeling had passed, since we all know and get that Maia was not (and is still not entirely) in the best place.

Sebastian and I have Simon take a few pictures of us, including one for Snapchat, before just sitting down on the couch and letting the two of them get ready in my room.

Rock of Ages's rendition of "Paradise City" (from the movie, not the musical) is blaring from my room. I turn to look at my boyfriend, who's eyeing me like I'm edible. I've gotta say, it does turn me on a little bit.

"Hi." I bite my lip.

He shifts in his seat. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Like you didn't pick these for this exact purpose."

"You're still evil."

I grin. "Does the house we'll be in have rooms?"

He nods. "Many."

"Good."

"Fuck, Clary."

"We'll get to doing that later."

He almost chokes on his own spit. "I swear to God—"

"You love meeeee."

"I really must, if I put up with this."

I blow him a kiss. "There's no must about it."

He rolls his eyes. "I do love you."

"And my body."

"Definitely."

_Take me back to the paradise city  
__Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty_

The song is coming to an end; the music is speeding up. Kind of like my heart. I get this overwhelming urge to have sex with him, but then I remember our friends are here, and that would be rude.

I stand up, giving him a better view of my butt. I'm terrible, basically, but I do love to torture people. Another favorite of mine comes up from the soundtrack—the "Jukebox Hero/I Love Rock 'n' Roll" mash up—and I smile as he looks positively livid.

"What?" I ask innocently.

"You are the worst person to ever exist, and we're gonna have so much sex later."

I high-five him. "Damn straight."

We sing along to the song—it's one of his favorites, too—until Isabelle turns off the laptop and says it's time to go.

* * *

Parties are really loud.

There is music booming from stereos and people grinding against each other and laughter clashing with instruments and chatter and the sound of people yelling due to the alcohol coursing through their veins. However, I still manage to enjoy taking it all in, the craziness and the people and the scenery. People I've never really spoken to for more than two seconds say hi to me, and I raise an eyebrow as Isabelle hands me a drink.

"We're not dancing," I tell Sebastian, wagging my finger at him.

"Give me a private lap dance and you've got yourself a deal," he tells me.

The comment should've pissed me off, but I grin at him anyway. A lot has happened over the past few weeks, including:

Jace still being a total dickwad and glaring at me.

Me not gathering up the courage to fucking speak to him.

Sebastian and me spending more time together because of my drive to piss the shit out of Jace.

The whole pissing off thing not working.

Me getting angrier, more frustrated, and, as a result, loosening up around my boyfriend.

I'm not entirely sure as to how it works, but it's pretty much working right now. When he kisses me, I taste alcohol on his lips, but I don't care, because he's also tasting it in mine. The music seeps into my veins, takes over my mind, and makes me feel alive. It should've given me a pounding headache, but it doesn't.

"Room," I tell him, knowing Jace is around. I pray that we pass by him so he can see me being happy.

We do. I make eye contact with him and raise my eyebrows before turning back to my boyfriend as we make our way up the stairs.

That was a pretty badass moment.

We close the wooden door behind us and fall onto the hard mattress. "Shit," I say. "This is hard. Do not," I add quickly, "make a penis joke."

"I won't." He kisses me until I fall back again, and he's on top of me. I arch myself up to meet him and wrap my legs around him, my ankles touching on the other end. I don't think we've ever gotten into it this fast—except, you know, when we had sex for the first time.

"Fuck," he says, and it's so soft that at first I think I must be imagining it. But then, louder: "_Fuck_."

"What?" I ask, unwrapping myself from him. "What's up?"

"I don't have a condom."

I look at him in disbelief. "_What_?"

"I left it at home. _Fuck_," he swears again. "I'll be right back, okay? Don't move."

"Okay," I say, sitting up as I watch him close the door.

This is ridiculous. This is literally the most ridiculous thing I've ever experienced in my entire life.

I could laugh at it. I _could_. In fact, just in case I get too drunk, I write it down on my notes. _Seb forgot his condom at home and now I'm alone in the room while he looks for one_. It's pretty insane.

I wait and wait and wait. I'm not sure if alcohol has messed with my perception of things—I've had, like, three drinks—but he's been gone for a while. I'm not gonna look for trouble, though; I'm gonna stay _right here_.

I look around inside the room. It's dark, so I use my phone's flashlight. The walls are made out of wood, and there's a dresser opposite from the bed, on the right side of the door. There's a closet and another door, which I assume is a bathroom. I turn off my phone's light and lie back down.

After what seems like an eternity, I hear footsteps near by. Thank freaking _God_. I look up and the door bursts open and and and—

And it's Jace. With a girl wrapped around him and a smile on his face.

"This room is taken," I say to him, probably looking (and definitely feeling) like shit.

Without a word, he closes the door and keeps going.

I lie back down. God, this is such a mess. I should just leave. I don't think Sebastian is even coming back.

But I don't wanna go back down to the party, so I stay there. I'm too aware of my heartbeat, so I close my eyes and take deep breaths. And I feel like crying, and I don't know why. I don't know why I'm here, wearing a costume I didn't even pick and with a boy who forgot his condom and has been gone for God knows how long trying to find one. I don't even like parties. At all. And yet here I am, and I don't know why my heart feels about five tons heavier after seeing Jace with that girl, but it does.

I stay there, listening to the music, which is muted by the door, and staring at nothingness. I stay there for so long that I forget why I was even there in the first place. And then the door opens.

The light is dim, and I can barely see his face, but I recognize him. Jace. What the _frick_. "I thought you might wanna know that your boyfriend's unconscious in the living room."

I take my phone and stand up so fast I almost topple over. "What? Why?"

He shrugs and walks away. _Weird_. I have no time to process it, though. I take the steps so fast that I almost fall.

Sure enough, there's my boyfriend, lying down on the couch. There's blood on his face, which has purple spots—bruises—all over it.

"What happened?" I ask a guy sitting on the couch adjacent to this one.

He shrugs. "A fight?"

"Shit. _Shit_."

I rake a hand through my hair. Deep breathing. I need to find Isabelle and Simon, and then we need to get out of here. But this place is packed, and I can't find anyone anywhere. I turn to the guy again.

"Can you do me a favor?"

Thankfully, he isn't that drunk, and he agrees to help me take him upstairs. We drag him up and into the room I was in before. We lift him up and leave him on the bed.

"Thanks," I tell him.

He nods and leaves. Another weirdo. Awesome.

I look at my boyfriend. He wasn't that drunk, so he's probably unconscious from the fight. God. What the hell am I gonna do? I send Isabelle a text telling her to come upstairs and wait.

She shows up about fifteen minutes later with an apology on her face and Simon behind her. She turns on the lamp on the nightstand, and it makes me wince. Simon closes the door, and the two of them get on the bed to inspect him.

"What the hell?" she asks. "I wasn't there when this happened."

Simon shrugs. "I was with Iz."

"He's insane," I say. "He said he was gonna look for a condom."

"Did he find one?" Simon asks.

"Never mind him," Isabelle tells me. "He's drunk off his ass."

"Boys are such idiots."

"Ain't that the truth."

I fall back against the pillows. "What are we gonna _do_, Iz? We can't exactly drag two drunk teenage guys through the streets of Manhattan. Sebastian's almost a whole foot taller than me."

She bites her lip. "We could stay here. People do that sometimes, right?"

I shrug. "I guess."

"Okay, so we'll stay in this room."

"Sure," I say. But I'm tired, and I want to go home, and I don't wanna be in the same room as anyone right now. I wanna be alone. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. There's one in here."

I walk inside the bathroom and turn on the lights. They're those bathroom lights—the very yellow ones. I look at myself in the mirror; I look exhausted, and I'm starving, and I feel like crap. I don't feel the way I did before I left home—sexy and powerful and all of that. I just feel like my heart has been split open, and it's because I've realized a lot of things tonight that I've spent months trying to bury deep inside.

I take deep breaths, not allowing myself to get overwhelmed to the point of tears. I can live through tonight. Everything will be fine. I'll just fall asleep and then wake up and then go home. Bam boom bam. Mom thinks I'm staying over at Isabelle's anyway, so it's fine.

My breath comes out shaky, but at least I can breathe. Okay. I need to get downstairs, wrestle the crowd, get enough water for the night, and come back up. Totally okay.

I open the door to the bathroom. "I'm going downstairs to get water and a cup of snacks."

"Want me to come with you?" Isabelle offers.

I shake my head. Even if it's in a crowd, I want to be alone. "I'm fine."

I make my way downstairs, past the people and music and what looks like soggy snacks on the ground. I make my way into the kitchen and take two plastic cups, fill them with water, and fill a third one with snacks. I take the snacks one and hold it with my mouth, the other two in either hand as I make my way up.

Someone bumps into me, making some of the water splash all over me. I turn to glare, but I can't really see who it is. _Great_. I open the door to the room, close it, and set everything down.

Simon drinks some water and eats a few snacks before passing out on the floor. Isabelle used a few spare blankets on the closet to make a mini mattress for the two of them, which I think is really nice, and he's totally passed out already.

"Clary," Isabelle says, concern in her eyes, "you're not okay."

It's not a question, but I defy her anyway. "I'm fine."

"You're exhausted, and there's other things going on with you, but I won't—I know you're tired, so I won't ask you about them now." She sighs. "Drink some water, okay? And eat something. And sleep. _Please_."

"You should too."

"I will. I'm not worried about myself."

"Maybe that's what you should do."

"What?"

"Worry about yourself."

I can see that it stings a little, but I don't care. "I will."

I drink half of the cup of water, eating snacks between gulps. It does help me feel a little better, but I go to the bathroom anyway. I know that scrubbing off my makeup now would be useless, so I just take off my hat, take a deep breath, and make my way back out.

I set the hat on the floor, take off my shoes, and tuck myself into bed, my boyfriend by my side.

* * *

Earlier this morning, as we walked out of the party, Sebastian explained what happened.

It is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

He was too drunk to remember who it was now, but he went to someone to ask for a condom, and the guy punched him out of nowhere. Said it was because Sebastian pushed him or something—which Seb doesn't actually _remember_, seeing as he was a little drunker than he thought. Anyway, there was punching and fighting and that's how my boyfriend ended up unconscious at the party.

If he hadn't forgotten the condoms, none of that would've happened.

But I kiss him goodbye when he drops me off at Izzy's, and then I make my way inside, dying to take off this costume and makeup and _everything_. I take off my makeup first, and then I take a shower, the warm water helping me regain feeling in my entire body. I almost fall asleep, but I don't let myself. I get dressed in my spare pajamas and make my way out into Isabelle's room.

I fall onto her bed. I could barely sleep last night; I fell asleep at around 2am and woke up at 5am to find that my boyfriend was conscious and drinking water and wincing.

I don't know why it makes me so mad that he got into that ridiculous fight, but it does. If he'd just been responsible enough to carry a condom in the first place, then none of this would've happened. I'm exhausted, and I wish that the annoyance I felt would tone itself down so I could fall asleep, but it's not happening.

"You okay?" Izzy asks me. She just got out of the shower herself.

I shake my head. "Nope."

"What's wrong, Clary?" She gets into bed beside me. Simon is passed out in Alec's room, thankfully.

"So many things," I tell her. "Pretty much everything."

"Sleep for a while, okay? Everything seems so much worse when we're tired."

I wanna tell her that this isn't just me being tired. I'm sick of so many things. I'm sick of Jace making me confused and angry and being a little bitch to me when I'm just so damn concerned about him all the damn time. I'm sick of using Sebastian—because, I realize, that's what I've been doing—to release the stress that Jace causes me. I'm tired of the idea that I've fallen out of love, because, God, I could've sworn that it would last a little longer. Just a few weeks ago I thought to myself that I could be happy with him forever.

And then it all fell apart.

I close my eyes anyway. Isabelle's heater is on, making me feel a ton better, and there's water on the bedside table. I take a sip and let my head fall against the comfortable, plush pillows. My eyes close on their own, and I just think to myself that there has to be a way for me to solve everything without getting hurt.

A girl can dream, right?

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	23. Broken Arrow

_Hey, guys! The doc upload thing on this site was just so bitchy today, so uploading this chapter took forever. I apologize if I missed any italics (which I had to redo) or anything like that. Anyway, thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, for being so gr9 all the time, and to DeathCabForMari (for talking politics with me bc yes), spikeyhairgood (for just being supportive 24/7 and being the best), and LuckyAsLockhart (because the songs, man). You guys are awesome and ily._

_Okay, so. I decided to write about this in this AN because some of the people who addressed this in their reviews are guests, and I wanted to make sure everyone read this, because that's only fair. A lot of you asked (or just simply stated) whether Jace was the one who fought Sebastian. I really did consider making that happen, but it wouldn't have fit with the rest of the story, which I've had planned for a while. So, basically: **no**_**. **_Jace didn't fight Sebastian. Nor does he feel compelled to, really. You'll understand why in later chapters, I promise, but I just wanted to say this: I'm trying to make this story as realistic as I can. I really am. And, the truth is, I've never ever in my life seen two guys actually fight over a girl__—especially not two guys who are teammates, and thus value each other as such, enough that they wouldn't pick a fight like that. Jace is pretty smart; he wouldn't have fought Sebastian over a girl he's trying to get over, because, well, that would mean that he **isn't **__over her, and that's the opposite of what he wants. So. Yeah. You'll see why it was so necessary for it to just have been some random drunk dude as the story goes on, I promise. I love drama as much as the next person, but that kind of drama doesn't fit into this story. Sorry._

_I hope that cleared up some things and that you enjoy this chapter! Thank you so much for reading/reviewing/everything! :) _

* * *

_What do you do when you're stuck  
'Cause the one that you love  
Has pushed you away  
And you can't deal with the pain_

_And now you're trying to fix me_  
_Mend what he did_  
_And find the piece that I'm missing_  
_But I still miss him_

...

_He's the thorn in my flesh  
That I can't take out  
He's stealing my breath  
When you're around  
And now you're trying to convince me  
He wasn't worthy  
That you can complete me  
He's the part that is missing  
_

_..._

_And you're sitting in the front row  
Wanna be first in line  
Waiting by my window  
Giving me all your time  
You could be my hero  
If only I could let go  
But his love is still in me  
Like a broken arrow_

"Broken Arrow" by Pixie Lott

* * *

"Lucian! Your sister's gonna be here any second, and you're not even dressed!"

"Jocelyn, it's fine. Calm down."

"Do _not_ tell me to calm down."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Luke kisses the top of my mom's head. "I'll go get dressed, but you take care of the food, okay?"

She sighs. "This only works if we're a team." She says it seriously, but there's a smile on her face.

I watch the scene unfold before me with my eyebrows raised at their ridiculousness. They always get into mini arguments during the holidays, but it always ends up with them kissing or just being generally gross.

My phone vibrates, and I look at it. _Happy Thanksgiving! Love you :)_

Sebastian.

After the party last month, things between us were not what they used to be. And it wasn't just what happened at the party—as in, it wasn't the fight he had, or the stupid condom thing. It was what I realized.

But I can't do this today.

I can't break up with my boyfriend of one year on Thanksgiving.

The mere thought of ending it makes my heart hurt. Just because I'm not _in_ love with him doesn't mean I don't love him. He's wonderful and fun and he makes me laugh and he makes me _feel_, and I just dread the moment when I tell him that, as a couple, we're not working anymore.

But I wait. I'll tell him tomorrow. _Happy Thanksgiving! I love you too xo_ says the text I send him, and I feel like a liar the second I hit send.

"Clary! Are you dressed?"

I glare at my mom. "No, Mom. I'm naked."

She rolls her eyes. "Drop the attitude. Is your room clean?"

"Pristine," I lie.

"Is your brother up?"

I shrug. "How am I supposed to know?"

It turns out that that's what saves me from my mom checking my (very much _not_ pristine) room. She goes into Jon's room and sees that he is, in fact, sleeping, and she spends five minutes waking him up. He got in late last night from Connecticut, but still. It's already three pm.

Anyway, I lock myself in my room and go on our group chat. Maia's still in the chat—still our friend, too, but on probation, basically—and I'm hoping that it stays that way. Because having the happiest couple in the world give me advice would just kill me.

Clary: I have to break up with Sebastian  
Maia: Whyyyy?  
Clary: I'm just not in love with him anymore, you know? I don't know if I ever really was. I liked him—I even love him—but it was more of an intense crush.  
Isabelle: Okay, I get that. So just leave him.  
Maia: Yup.  
Simon: It's not that simple.  
Clary: Thank you, Simon.  
Simon: You're welcome. Anyway, it's Thanksgiving, guys. She's not gonna dump him today. And what's she gonna say to the guy who's treated her like a queen for the past year? "Hey, sorry, but I'm not feelin' it"? She needs to think about it.  
Clary: Basically.  
Isabelle: Oh, please. He isn't entitled to paragraphs of explanation. It's not like he's been treating her amazingly lately. The condom incident, anyone? Insisting on the police costumes? Getting into fights? Focusing more on his friends than his relationship?  
Maia: I agree with both sides. But seriously, Clary, you don't owe him anything. If the situation was reversed, he wouldn't hesitate to break up with you.  
Clary: Thanks, Maia.  
Maia: I don't mean it like that.  
Isabelle: I'm with Maia on this.  
Simon: Same, sort of. You don't owe him anything, but you also care about him, yeah? So try to make it the nicest breakup you can.  
Clary: That makes sense. But how do I do that? I've never broken up with anyone before, and I really care about him.  
Isabelle: Just be like, "Hey, Seb, I love you and all, but I don't think this is working out." And then you elaborate. He'll know you don't wanna hurt him.  
Maia: Yeah. There's no easy/good way to break up with someone—there's bad ways, sure, things you should never do, but never a good way.  
Clary: Thanks, guys. And happy Thanksgiving!  
Simon: Ditto!  
Isabelle: Same!  
Maia: Back at ya!

I smile and try to make my room look presentable. I look at myself in the mirror, adjust my dress and cardigan, and take a deep breath. I mean, it's a pretty hard choice to make, but I have a day to think about it.

"Amatis! Stephen!"

Aaaaand that's my cue to walk outside.

We greet our family members (it's literally just the four of us and Amatis, Stephen, and their baby, but whatever) and the adults start drinking wine. Amatis asks me if I could look after their baby, whose name is Mark, and so that's how I end up with a kid in my room.

Gross.

_What're you doing today?_

It's Sebastian. I hesitate before replying.

_Not much. Thanksgiving dinner with family. You?_

_Nothing. Both parents are traveling, so I'm eating ramen noodles by myself._

I want to die.

I feel obligated to invite him over—that's the sort of thing good girlfriends do, I think, but I never claimed to be one—but I don't know if it's the smart thing to do. Sure, yes, I care and love him, but I also have to think about the fact that I don't want to lead him on. I bite my lip and send my friends a message.

Clary: Seb's alone today, guys. Do I invite him?  
Maia: Where are his parents?  
Clary: Traveling. His dinner: ramen noodles.  
Isabelle: Invite him.

After they all agree, I walk outside and pull my mom aside. The baby's still in my room, but he's safe, so it's okay.

"What's wrong?" Mom frowns.

I explain the situation to her, and she exhorts me to invite him over. So I do. I tell him there's an additional setting at the table if he wants it, and he says he's showing up in half an hour. I can control myself. I don't have to do this today. I am still grateful for him as a person, so I can wait one more day or whatever.

I remind myself of those things when I see him walk through the door, looking eternally grateful and, as always, insanely attractive. I give him a quick kiss and a hug, wrapping my arms around him tightly and lingering for a second before letting go. I can't really give him a proper make-out session or anything, but I can at least give him a hug, right?

I introduced him to Amatis and Stephen as my boyfriend, and I bring the baby out of the room and into the living room. Amatis, Stephen, Luke, and my mom are drinking wine and laughing and telling us about their lives now and their lives before they had things figured out. I'm holding the baby in my lap, and Sebastian absentmindedly hands Mark his index finger so he can grip it tightly.

He leans into me and whispers, "This baby has a steel grip on my finger. I don't know whether to be impressed or horrified."

I meet his gaze. "Both."

He laughs softly, and it breaks my heart, but I smile at him anyway. We spend the rest of the time chatting, and I help my mom a few times in the kitchen. When I stand up to do so, Sebastian stays with the baby. He seems so in love with Mark, and it's the cutest thing ever. Even though I don't even _like_ children.

When it's time for dinner, we gather around on the kitchen table. There's an extra setting for Sebastian by my side, which is nice, and I can tell that he's infinitely grateful for this. I don't want to leave him, but I don't wanna stay with him for all the wrong reasons.

After dinner, the two of us go inside my room. We leave the door semi-open, of course, and take the baby with us as well. We set him down on the bed and each sit down on either side of Mark.

"Thanks for today, Clary." Sebastian gives me a small smile and hands Mark his index finger. "I can tell that things between us haven't been the way they used to be, you know, but thank you."

I sigh. "You're welcome." I make sure he's looking at me before I continue. "I really care about you, Seb."

"I know. I care about you too."

I give Mark my other finger and watch as he grips both tightly, letting out a few giggles. I smile up at Seb, who meets my eyes and does the same.

We care about each other, but I have to do it.

Just not today.

* * *

In the past few days, I've learned that there is no right time to break up with your boyfriend, no matter how much you'd like to pretend that one day or one moment would make a life-altering difference.

But today, two days before school starts back up again, I asked him to meet me at Java Jones.

The first thing that was probably off to him was that I didn't ask him to pick me up like I usually do. Isabelle took me and gave me a pep talk the whole way there, and then she told me she'd be nearby if I needed her. I know I'll need her, so that's always a nice reminder.

The second thing that's probably hinted him off is the expression on my face. I tried to make it normal, but it just ended up being pathetically cheerful, so I've settled on wearing my emotions on my face. It's not a good thing. I am aware of the fact that it is not, in fact, a good thing. But I do it anyway, and he walks in and meets my eyes and he _knows_, because we know each other so well by this point that he's aware of what's coming.

But I say it anyway. "Hey, Seb."

He gives me a heartbreaking smile. "Hey."

I bite my lip for a second before looking away. My eyes land on him shortly after, though, because I need to make eye contact with him for this. I owe him this much. "I think you know why we're here."

"I have an idea," he says carefully.

I don't know why that breaks my heart for the millionth time today, but it does. Sebastian is a lot of things—carefree and funny and wild and stunning and intelligent and charming—but he is not careful. And the fact that he's being careful with me kills me.

"I think—" I look down for a second, and then pull my eyes back up. "I don't think we're working out anymore."

"I knew it."

"And it's not you," I say quickly. "God, that is so cheesy, but it's not. You're one of the most amazing guys I've ever met, and you don't know how much I prayed to a god I don't even believe in so things would work out. I don't believe in a lot of things, you know, but I wanted to believe in us so much." My heart is stuck in my throat, and my chest feels like it weighs more than the entire world. "And I know you may not believe me, but I do love you. That's why I couldn't keep going on with this. You deserve something real, someone who cares about you the way you care about them. And I just—I don't know how, but I just stopped being in love with you."

He's silent, and the seconds feel like burdens to carry. I look down again, but his voice brings my eyes back up. "I know," he says. "You're not a bad person, Clary. It's hard for me to say that, because I'm angry, but I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at whatever made you stop loving me. It wasn't—this kind of thing isn't something you can control, you know? I don't think you're lying," he adds. "I never have."

I want to reach for his hand, but I can't. I'm frozen in place. I can see snow gathered up in bunches outside, and I want to bury in it to see if the feeling of freezing to death will give me the courage to _do something_.

"I'm angry too. And confused as to why these things happen. I just—this is cheesy as hell, oh my God—but I hope we can be friends. Or at least acquaintances."

He gives me a small smile. "It'll definitely happen. And I'm still here if you need any help in Physics."

Bless the shit out of him.

"You're too—" I shake my head. "I'm insane to let you go."

"You are. But it's okay," Sebastian tells me. "You'll find someone who gets close to my level of awesomeness."

For the first time today, I smile. "Thanks, Seb."

He nods. "I have to go, but I'll see you Monday?"

I nod back at him and give him a small smile. "Of course."

After he's out, I send Isabelle a text. It's warm in here, thankfully, and I don't wanna go back out. Isabelle walks in, and I can see the sigh of relief she lets out upon feeling the warmth of Java Jones. She locates my booth and sits where my now ex-boyfriend had been sitting before.

"How'd it go?"

I shrug. "We ended on good terms. He didn't really demand any explanations, which is good."

She doesn't say it, but I can tell that she's thinking that I'm crazy for letting him go. I'm starting to think it too.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

I shake my head. "I don't know if I made a mistake. I don't know. And, when I get home, I have work left for me to do, and I don't know how I'm gonna focus and get good grades. And I don't know what I'm gonna do about Jace. And I don't know a lot of things, and I don't think I'll be okay for a long, long time."

I'm aware of the fact that I'm being dramatic, but voicing things how they are and it sounding dramatic doesn't take away from the fact that that's how I feel. I'm uncertain about everything. It's disheartening and nerve-wracking and the last thing I want to do is making another life-changing mistake.

God knows those stay rooted deep in my bones, ready to make me feel like the biggest fuckup in the world.

* * *

I get to school just in time for homeroom to start, so I'm a little late. I overslept today, which is, like, the worst thing I could do, but I've been feeling like shit ever since my breakup. I know that I was the one to break up with Sebastian, but I still feel like I could burst into tears at any given moment.

It's so shitty.

"Hey," Isabelle says, greeting me.

"Hi."

"How are you doing?"

"Eh."

She frowns. "You need to get it together."

"I really don't." I rest my head on her desk. "I want to stay home and watch Parks and Rec, except it reminds me of him, and now I just wanna die."

She rolls her eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"I know. But I think I'm still within the time range where it's totally acceptable to be dramatic."

"True. It's only been a weekend."

I moan. "I don't wanna be here."

She pats my head awkwardly. Oh, Iz. "No one does, Clary."

"I _especially_ don't wanna be here today."

Isabelle sighs. "Okay. Sure. You are the person who least wants to be here today. But you have to be, so suck it up."

I glare at her. "You're the worst support system _ever_."

"Things are fine between the two of you. I just don't see why this is a big deal."

I lean in closer to her. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a reason breakups make me anxious, Lightwood."

She looks slightly apologetic for her previous words. "I know it's hard to have to look at both of their faces every day, but you're strong, Fray. You'll get through it."

I close my eyes and let out a breath. "I know. Just let me complain about it for a little bit."

And she does.

I part ways with her and walk into AP US History when the bell rings. Simon is waiting for me with a smile on his face that is meant just for me, and I know that he's just trying to make me feel better. I have the best friends in the universe.

"Izzy told me you overslept," he greets me.

"I did."

"How are you feeling?"

"Crappy?"

"At least you have the homework done," he comments. "Not a lot of people do."

"Because _that's_ my main concern right now."

"No need to be pissy," he says, reminding me of the words I told him on our first day.

I give him a smile. "There's every need. Or have I not told you the story of my ex and me?"

"You guys seem to be in totally good terms," Simon replies. Damn him. "You'll be fine."

"I just feel so…guilty. Like we could've had the best of times, but then I had to go on and send it all to hell."

"You didn't _choose_ this," he reminds me. "And it's not like you're the only one who fucked up."

It's true, but it doesn't necessarily cheer me up.

I go through the rest of the day easily, ignoring everything and everyone and taking the minimum amount of notes to get by. It's probably not a good idea, but whatever. I don't even know why I'm so goddamn _bummed_ about this breakup. I get that it's fresh in my mind, but my friends have valid points. It _was_ my choice. I'm the one who isn't in love with him. We ended things on very good terms.

So why do I still feel like this?

It's a blessing and a curse, you know, to be young and free. We aren't as free as you'd think when we're young. The emotions that course through our veins are amplified, like the emotions themselves are on crack. And, when they make their way to our brains and our poor, broken hearts, it hurts us and cheers us up and angers us a thousand times more than it would a normal person. And to feel things like that is a blessing, because you get excited about the simplest of things, but it is a curse, because the smallest action can break your heart into pieces.

By the time I get to AP Lit, I already want to die. But, of course, it being AP Lit, we're discussing a book. Yaaaaay. We're discussing a play, actually._ A Doll's House_ by Henrik Ibsen. I actually really liked it when I read it, so I _was_ looking forward to this discussion. I sit down next to Isabelle and take out my book, notebook, and pen. When Jace walks in, I ignore him entirely—something I've gotten pretty good at.

"Okay, class," our teacher says. "Take out _A Doll's House_ and have something to take notes with, because we're gonna be analyzing this play very intensely. There's gonna be an essay on the final in which you'll have to include examples from books, plays, and poems we've read this semester, so please annotate."

The class groans, and the teacher has a small smile on her face the entire time. I write down today's date on the right corner of my page and write A DOLL'S HOUSE to the left of the first line.

"Okay." She doesn't stand up from her desk. This is a relatively small class; there's only eleven of us. "So. _A Doll's House_. Let's start off with general thoughts. Anyone wanna give it a go?"

Isabelle looks at me expectantly, knowing that I have a lot to say, but I stay quiet. I'm not in the mood for this today. I'm really not.

"Clary," the teacher says. _Fuck me._

I look at her. "I really enjoyed it. It's definitely a feminist play, and I like how it portrays women when they're by themselves and contrasts it with the way they are around men. I also enjoyed the character of Nora and thought that the end humanized her more than it made her seem like a bad character, but that's just me."

She smiles. "Good. Anyone else?"

I look down. My work here is done.

But then.

"Nora was pretty selfish, though." I can feel Jace's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. "I mean, to leave your entire family like that? Everyone feels trapped or faced with choices that they can't easily make, but she left her husband and kids to explore. When she made the commitment to marry that guy—Torvald—she also made the promise to stick with him, you know. And yeah, he was a bad husband, definitely, but she just left him. She made up her mind in, like, a day."

"Because," I reply, unable to help myself, "he treated her like a kid. He treated her like she didn't know the value of money—even though_ she_ was the one paying off the debt she took so that he would live—and like she didn't know anything about real issues. She just wanted to feel real instead of used. So she ran." _There_. Now please stop.

But he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. Jace is anything but the kind of person that lets anyone else have the last word. "But she knew that he'd treat her like that beforehand, probably, because she was aware that she was being handed down from a master to another, and yet she still chose to marry Torvald."

"Maybe he wasn't like that," I tell him, meeting his gaze. "People change all the time. Maybe he did too. Either way," I add, facing the teacher now, "Nora had all the right to run away from the kind of environment where any bad action by her would result in her being thought of as toxic by her backwards husband."

The teacher—bless her soul—intercepts our conversation before it becomes a heated argument. "These are all very good, valid points, and we'll be exploring all of them through this play." She writes down its name on the board. "Let's talk about the title."

I zone out, writing down whatever I see on the board in the moments when I'm not daydreaming or doodling things on the corners of my pages. Once the class ends, I leave at the speed of light, worried that my teacher will try to stop Jace and me to talk about the play. She likes discussion, and so do I, but not now. Definitely not now.

Physics is boring, but Isabelle hands me a note that asks me how I'm doing, and I send her that I'm feeling like crap. The usual. At lunch, they all watch me carefully.

"Stop," I finally tell them. "Please. For the love of God. Stop this."

"You're the one acting like the breakup was the end of the world," Isabelle says. Simon nudges her with his elbow, but it doesn't quite work out the way he planned. "Ow!" She glares at him. "You elbowed my boob."

"Jesus Christ." I shake my head. "Guys, you staring at me like I'm a freak animal at the zoo isn't helping. I'm fine. Ish. So go on as you usually would."

"Okay." Isabelle turns to Simon and Maia. "Clary totally killed it today in AP Lit."

"Oh God," I comment.

She ignores me. "She made Jace eat his own shit. Figuratively, but still. It was _awesome._"

Simon looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "Do elaborate."

I tell him what happened, and he looks at me in a way that says to expect glaring all throughout Sci-Fi Lit. I could not agree more.

In Algebra II, Sebastian takes his usual seat in front of me. He gives me a hesitant smile. "Hey," he says.

"Hi," I tell him.

"How are you?" he asks.

I shrug. "I'm okay. How are you?"

"I'm pretty good, I think."

"You think?"

He shrugs. "I didn't do so well in my last Spanish quiz."

"Oh." I got an A+. "I know that this is probably the last thing you want, but I could tutor you. I'm doing pretty well."

His eyes light up. "That'd be amazing. I am, after all, still tutoring you for Physics."

I smile at him. "Just send me a message to let me know when, okay?"

He nods, and our class starts. I feel a ton better, actually. I think that part of the reason I was so anxious for today is that I was worried he'd change his mind. But he hasn't, it seems, and the thought makes me feel so relieved that I could cry. Maia meets my eyes from beside me, and I give her a smile. She returns it, and I'm finally able to focus on class.

Thank. God.

But then it's time for Sci-Fi Lit, and everything good that ever existed goes out the window, because it's the class I have with Jace. Just as we predicted, he glares at me shortly before going back to ignoring me. So mature.

I take a seat behind Simon—my usual one. He turns around to look at me. "How'd it go?" he asks.

"So well. I'm tutoring him for Spanish, and he's helping me with Physics, and everything's okay."

He flashes me a grin. "I told you so."

I smack him playfully. "Shut up."

"Seriously, though." Simon gives me a smile. "I'm glad you two are okay."

I smile back at him as I take out my things. "Me too."

* * *

It is so late that you could hear a pin drop, so of course I decide to go out to get some dulce de leche ice cream to go with my _Friends_ marathon.

I sneak out of my room quietly, making sure the door closes without making too much noise. I turn on the kitchen light and take out the ice cream, and I'm in the process of scooping up the ice cream and dumping it in a cup when someone clears their throat behind me.

My mom.

"Busted," I say, because it's almost midnight on a Monday.

"What're you doing up so late?" she asks, going over to one of the cabinets to get something. Her blood pressure pills, I think. Not sure.

"I can't sleep."

"How come?"

"I don't know." I shrug. I haven't told her about Sebastian yet, but I should. "I'm not tired. I'm watching TV and eating this." I hold up the ice cream.

She smiles. "Sounds good. Try not to go to bed too late, okay?"

I nod, and she kisses the top of my head, dismissing me. I hesitate for a second before turning to her and saying, "Just so you know, Mom, I broke up with Sebastian on Saturday."

She looks like she wants to ask a lot of questions, but, thankfully, all she says is: "Do you wanna talk about it?"

I shake my head. "I'm good."

She nods. "Then goodnight, Clary."

"Bye, Mom."

I take my cup and spoon into my room, shut the door, and wrap myself up in my warm, comfortable blankets before pressing play.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	24. Superpower

_Hiii, guys! So here I ammmm, after procrastinating this update. I had my college orientation on Thursday/Friday, and this weekend's been hectic, so I'm pretty tired, but yeah. First off, 400 reviews! That's amazing. Thank you all so much for being so awesome all the time. As always, thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, who is about to go on the best trip ever and I am so excited for her oh my godddd. Also, thanks to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, LuckyAsLockhart (who recommended the song!), and oesteffel for being so great in every way and being so supportive and giving me great advice. :) _

_Hope you guys like this chapter! _

* * *

_When the palm of my two hands, hold each other_  
_That feels different_  
_From when your hands are in mine_  
_That's just the way it is, hmmm_  
_And when my voice is screaming out, to my own ears, uh_  
_That feels different_  
_From when I hear yours_  
_Now that's just the way it is_  
_And when I'm standing in this mirror_  
_After all these years_  
_What I'm viewing is a little different_  
_From what your eyes show you_  
_I guess I didn't see myself before you_  
_Moving forward_

"Superpower" by Beyoncé

* * *

I catch a glimpse of the snow falling gracefully outside as I chuck my Physics book at the wall.

"Clary," Sebastian says, "you need to relax. And focus. And not throw your book at the wall."

"It deserves it," I mutter.

"Maybe," he replies. "But the wall doesn't."

I sigh. "You're right."

I stand up and pick up my heavy-ass book from the floor and place it back on my bed. Sebastian sits on the desk chair nearby, but he doesn't get on my bed. Now that we're Just Friends, we shy away from falling back into old habits—which is pretty hard, since I'm still just as comfortable with him as I was before. We had a talk a few days ago, you know, and I asked him whether he needed space, since, duh, he'd just gotten dumped. By me. But he told me that he didn't, because, while he was still a little hurt and trying to get over me, he loved having me as a friend. Which is nice. And reciprocated.

He looks up from his phone. "Listen, Clary, I have to go. But thanks for tutoring me today," Seb says. "You're still coming to the group Physics tutoring thing tomorrow, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it." I get back up. "And thanks for helping me out with Physics today too. I don't know what I'd do without you."

I realize what I said a little late, but, luckily, he doesn't seem to mind. He knows not to take it the way he would have before, so he just smiles at me. "You'd be fine anyway."

"True," I reply with a grin. "But I'm better off with you around."

"Well, let's hope you don't change your mind after the Physics test."

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you doubting your tutoring abilities?"

"No. But I _am _doubting your study habits."

"Shhh."

He grins as I open the door for him. "Bye, Clary."

"See ya, Seb."

I get back on my bed and review the Physics notes before shutting my book. Finals start on Monday, which is just two days away, and the thought makes me want to die. I have until Friday to turn in my AP Studio Art final, which is a portfolio of my work, but that's almost done. And, besides, I can rush that one. There's a written test, too, but we took that yesterday, and I totally killed it. Anyway, my first two finals are APUSH and Spanish, and then I have AP Lit and Physics, and then Algebra II and Sci-Fi Lit. My Sci-Fi Lit final was actually just answering a few questions (in depth) and turning in a long analysis on our novel of choice—but it had to be, of course, something we read during the semester. So that leaves APUSH, Spanish, AP Lit, Physics, and Algebra II. I take out my history book and crack it open, because I might as well start now.

I'm almost done with the first page of our ten-page long review when there's a knock on my door. I don't know how I hear it, actually, since I have my headphones in and I'm blasting music, but I do.

"Come in," I call out, pausing in the middle of the song.

Mom walks in. "Hi. Just wanted to see if you were around."

I nod. "Finals week is next week."

"Ohhh. What are you studying for?"

"History," I reply. "It's the first one."

She nods. "Well, I'm making dinner if you want any later."

"Sure."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

She shuts the door, and I get right back to it. Honestly, it's not a _terrible _way to spend my Friday. It's pretty insane that I can actually _enjoy _studying, but I've been paying attention this semester, and everything's just kind of clicking. Maybe not with math and science, but with everything else. When I reach the halfway point in the review, it's almost eleven o'clock, and my stomach rumbles shamelessly. I reward myself with two plates of dinner and _Friends_. Season five. Because Monica and Chandler.

I keep going until it's two in the morning and I'm a page away from finishing and my eyes are burning and everything is hazy and I'm so tired I can't even blink without never wanting to open my eyes again. I somehow turn off the lights and drag myself over to my bed, and I fall asleep as easily as I breathe.

* * *

I show up the next morning to the Physics study group thing at Sebastian's apartment. His parents are already out—I don't know where they went, to be honest, but I know that they're never around. I met them twice in the whole year that Sebastian and I were together, and things are definitely tense when they're together, so I'm glad that they're not around.

Seb takes my coat and shoves it in his room, which is probably a coat room by now. There's six other people here, not counting Seb and myself, and two of them are Isabelle and Maia. I sit by them, desperately clinging to people I _actually _talk to. Two girls called Kaelie and Seelie are here, as well as a guy called Meliorn, and then there's another dude here whose name I don't know (and never ask).

"Is this everyone?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "We're waiting on three more people."

I nod. I want to ask who's left, but I don't. I take out my notebook, textbook, and pencils, entirely prepared to die a little bit inside.

"How was yesterday?" Isabelle asks, her voice a whisper.

I shrug. "Fine."

"Yeah?"

I nod. "We can talk about it later, okay?"

She nods back at me, and we pay an obscene amount of attention to our notes. I flip to the current page and write FINAL REVIEW on top in capital letters. Yup. Super pumped.

"Heeeeey," Sebastian says. "I thought you guys were never gonna show up."

"Yeah," says a voice. I recognize that voice. "The snow is _insane_."

It's Aline.

The very friend Maia stole from me when we were nine.

"But we made it," says another voice. Female. "Is everyone here already?"

"Nah. We're waiting on one more."

"Nice."

The three of them walk into the living room, and Seb introduces the girls as Aline (which I already knew) and Helen. The two of them sit together and hold hands, and Aline's eyes widen when she sees me. She sits near me.

"Hi," she says. "So…it's been a while."

"Yeah. Few years or so."

She smiles. "Yeah. How are you?"

I shrug. "Dying over Physics. You?"

"Same." She nods, face solemn. "Anyway, this is my girlfriend, Helen. I just really wanted the two of you to meet, you know, since you were my friend, and I don't want you to think that I've forgotten about that."

I smile, because it's kind of silly for her to bring up our friendship from seven years ago _now_. I mean, sure, we stayed "sort of friends" all through middle school, but it was never the same.

"Nice to meet you," I tell Helen. "And don't worry about it, Aline. People grow apart."

"And I was cooler," Maia pipes up.

I mock-glare at her. "Shut your pie hole, Maia."

She laughs. "You love me."

"Sadly."

Aline smiles. "What's new?"

I shrug again. "Aside from the death by Physics thing? Not much." I bite my lip. "Well," I say, lowering my voice, "I just got out of a relationship with Sebastian a few weeks ago, actually. But that's pretty much it."

"Oh." She nods. "Pretty cool for him to invite you. Are you still friends?"

I nod. "Yup."

"That's good."

There's a knock on the door, and Sebastian rushes up to answer it. "Finally," he says loudly, and a few of the people sitting by—mainly Seelie and Kaelie—let out a laugh.

"Yeah," says a voice. "Sorry."

Oh, no.

Isabelle looks like she wants to grip my hand, and I look at her like that's a good thing, because oh my God, there he is, very much here, in Sebastian's apartment, and I suddenly can't think coherently because here. He. Is. Oh. My. God. And it isn't the fact that he's physically here, but the fact that we're gonna spend an _entire morning/afternoon_ here.

Jace's eyes scan the room and land on me, and his expression goes from relaxed to hard in like half a second. It's pretty impressive, actually. My eyes drop to the floor—not because of shame, but because I can't stand to have someone look at me like that.

"This is Jace," Sebastian says, even though everyone knows who Jace is.

Oh Jesus.

Some people say hey to him, but I stay quiet, eyes trained on my notebook. I feel like one of us should find an excuse to get the fuck out, but I can't. I literally cannot do this. I can't move, and I need to pass this final, and he can go somewhere else or shove something up his ass if he doesn't think that I deserve to get free tutoring.

_Well_, I think to myself, _that took a turn._

In the original _Little Mermaid _story by Hans Christian Andersen, the mermaid felt like a thousand little knives were stabbing her feet when she walked on land. And that's kind of how I feel now, actually. Only the knives are punches, and they've already been delivered straight to my heart. And chest. And gut. And now I kind of feel like all of me has been turned inside out, and it's definitely _not _a good thing.

"Okay," Sebastian says loudly. "So let's start. I have printouts of the review, and I have an answer sheet with me, but we're gonna go question by question to answer everything, and then we're gonna go to sections of the book to sort of give us more in-context answers. We're also gonna read some cases, just in case there's anything there about examples and stuff."

We cover all of that, and I pay attention to him. Only him. I'm probably paying him more attention now than I did during the final stages of our relationship, but whatever. I feel everybody's presence so acutely that it becomes hard for me to breathe without wondering if everyone around me can see the rising and falling of my chest, can hear the intake and outtake of breath. And then I scold myself, because that's the stupidest thing to wonder. Why would they judge me for breathing?

Aaaaand now I'm scolding myself for getting distracted. I listen to Sebastian drone on about theories and Physics-related stuff, but I decide to actually focus now. To take boys off my mind and _do this thing_.

So I do.

I mean, it's not easy, because the only two guys I've had serious feelings for are _right the fuck there_, but I manage to focus. I actually kind of _learn _things, which is mind-boggling, but Seb has always been an amazing tutor. I smile at the thought as soon as I'm able to—which, by the way, happens to be when he gives us a break. I close my book, and Seb says he's gonna order pizza. God bless the actual shit out of him.

Okay, well. Not the actual shit out of him.

"Hey," Maia says. I'm no longer sitting on the floor; instead, I'm near Sebastian's room, arms crossed.

"Hi," I reply.

"You okay?" she asks.

I shrug. "I will be if I can pass this final."

"Clary—"

"No, look, I know." I nod. "I know what you mean, okay, but I can't let that distract me today, because I will lose it if I start thinking about this right now."

She nods. "Fair enough."

"Did Isabelle send you here?"

She shakes her head. "I came here on my own, though she _did _say she wanted to know what you said afterwards." Maia has the decency to look slightly apologetic. "Sorry?"

"Not your fault. I haven't been communicating, what with my Physics grade—not to mention my future—being at stake." I shake my head. "But no. Of _course _Isabelle just wants to talk about the one thing that will not be relevant to my future."

Maia just looks at me with a soft expression that makes me want to jump off a building or run or cry or focus intensely on Physics, but we're on, like, a two-hour break or something. "I'll talk to her, okay?"

I nod, feeling slightly guilty about my not-so-nice thoughts as she walks over to my best friend and tells her everything. I let out a sigh and slide down, choosing to sit back here. I check my phone and text Simon.

Clary: Hi.  
Simon: Hey.  
Clary: I want to die.  
Simon: How come you're not talking on the group chat?  
Clary: Don't really feel like it, to be honest.  
Simon: Really?  
Clary: Really?  
Simon: What's up?  
Clary: Jace is here.  
Simon: No shit.  
Clary: I just want to not be here. But it's helping me. I understand things! But I also want to die.  
Simon: Oh. What does Isabelle say?  
Clary: Isabelle just wants to know if I'm ready to bone either Seb or Jace. Which I'm not! I broke up with Seb, and we're good friends, but Isabelle likes looking for drama in places where there isn't any. He and I are so amazingly cool right now, and I don't want her curiosity and weird wishes to live vicariously through me to fuck this up.  
Simon: Okay…okay. Have you told her this?  
Clary: …no.  
Simon: Maybe you should.  
Clary: Are you insane?! She'd flip the fuck out.  
Clary: So I sent Maia to do it instead.  
Simon: You're a big baby.  
Clary: What a hurtful thing to say.  
Simon: I just woke up from a nap. Let me live my life.

I snort at his message and look up in time to see Sebastian walking towards me. He sits down beside me.

"Hey," he tells me. "You okay?"

I nod. "I'm actually understanding Physics, so that's, like, a huge bonus."

Sebastian smiles at me. "That's awesome, but it's not exactly what I meant."

I frown. "What _did _you mean, then?"

He hesitates for a second. "Listen, can I—can we talk in my room?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Way to be a host, Seb."

He rolls his eyes. "It's kind of important."

I frown, standing up. "Sure."

I take my phone with me as he leads me into his room. I feel a few people looking at us, but I don't care. Or at least I tell myself that I don't, which is infinitely more comforting than the other option.

"What's up?" I ask him, sitting down on his desk chair.

He sits on his bed, and we face each other. "Well," he starts, but seems unsure as to how to continue his train of thought. His hesitation makes me nervous, actually. I kind of feel like I'm on a roller-coaster, and it's about to take off, and I don't know what it's like, and I'm dreading it, but I'm also super ready to get it over with. "I'm just gonna say it, you know? I know that I have no right to be asking you this right now, since we're totally broken up, but it's part of why I'm so concerned about you. Just keep that in mind, okay?" At my nod, he continues. "So…did you and Jace ever, like, go out?"

I try to remain calm as I reply to him, mostly because this is what I worked so hard to avoid when we went out. But we're not going out anymore, so it's totally acceptable for me to tell him the truth. "Yeah," I reply. "Well…no. Really, no. We never went out." I'm not making any sense, but whatever. "Well, um, so. Okay. When I was in the eighth grade—finishing it up, actually—I met him, and it was purely coincidental, but we ended up hitting it off. And I _know_—I know what you're thinking, okay, about thirteen being a young time to figure out whether or not you have intense feelings for someone—but the way we were with each other was the kind of thing that you just _know_. There was nothing uncertain or confusing about the way I felt about him. I just…felt it, I guess, and that was enough. Anyway, he asked me out, and he told me that he liked me, and I know it was fast, but whatever. But my mom…"

"She got in the way," he finishes for me. "That's the story."

"That's the story."

"And you really liked him."

"Yeah." I frown. "How did you know?"

"Well." He sighs. "It was a super huge shot in the dark. But basically, I remember seeing you guys together in middle school, but it wasn't that often or anything. Just the last few weeks. And I've seen the way he looks at you now, you know—maybe not that one time he came to get that rec letter, but ever since he's been back, you know, he avoids you like the plague, and you do the same. And I remember the story you told me with your mom, and I see how you two act around each other, so it kind of…made sense."

"Nothing else?" I ask.

"Well, back when we were together…" He shakes his head. "Never mind."

"What, Seb?"

"This is gonna seem really stupid, and I don't want you to think that I'm like that, you know?"

"Whatever it is, Sebby, I know you. So just tell me."

"Okay." He actually has to take a breath for this. Oh boy. "So, back when we were together, at the beginning of the year, the guys sort of…teased me about it? Well, not like that. It was locker room talk, you know, and it was kind of wildly inappropriate and everything, and Jace just stayed _really _quiet, and this guy made a comment about him being mad that I stole his girl, and Jace was like, 'No, man, don't be stupid. Clary's never been my girl. Fuck off.' Which was moody and rude and weird, even for him, so I asked him what was wrong with you being anyone's girl, and he said he was just clarifying things, but he didn't make a joke out of it like he usually does with things, so it did help."

"Wow." I wait a second before asking the question that's actually killing me inside. "So what kind of comments did the guys make about me?"

He groans. "Let's not."

"Did they think I was hot?" I raise my eyebrows suggestively.

"Clary, as a friend, I do not want you to know this."

"Sebastian, as a friend, spill it."

He shakes his head. "I refuse. Guys are terrible."

"That's a fact I already know."

"I'd like for you to see all guys as me."

"Because your humility is an example to follow, obviously."

He grins. "Obviously." He stands up. "We should go back out there."

"Right." I stand up too. "Wouldn't want them to think inappropriate things." I waggle my eyebrows suggestively. "Like sex."

"Jesus, Clary."

"Well, you _refuse _to treat me like a normal person—"

"You are far too great for me to ruin other boys for you. I care about you too much."

I place a hand on my chest. "I'm touched. Really. But they ruin themselves."

He nods. "That's very true. Still," he adds. "No."

"Damn it, Seb!"

The two of us make our way outside. Everyone's still talking, mostly about how hungry they are, and I follow Seb into the open kitchen and beg him _pretty please _to give me more details.

"You are so stubborn," he comments. "But I'm not breaking. I know how stubborn you can be. I was with you for over a year."

I stick my tongue out at him. It's childish, but who cares? "You are the worst human being on the _planet_."

"Guilting me into it isn't gonna work."

I smack his arm. "Ow! Jesus _Christ_, Sebastian, what the hell?"

He grins at me and waggles his eyebrows. "I've been doing some working out."

"For the love of hell, did you have to wait until _after _we broke up to work out?"

"It motivated me."

"And this whole thing is inspiring me—nay, _motivating _me—to insist on you telling me what the frick frack they said about me."

"Never." He continues to grin at me. "But I'll give you an extra pizza slice?"

It _does _help his case, but still. "This isn't over, Verlac."

"It never is with you, Fray."

I smile and walk back to where Maia and Isabelle are sitting. "Hey," I tell them.

"Hi," Isabelle says. "What was that all about?"

"We were, uh, clearing some things up."

She gives me a weird look, but decides—intelligently—that this is neither the time nor the place to talk about the talk that I've just had with my ex-boyfriend. Instead, she shrugs and says, "Do you know what toppings he ordered for the pizza?"

"Damn it," I curse. "I didn't even think to ask."

"Well, you definitely should."

I haul my ass back up and go into the kitchen, where Seb is standing, talking to Aline. "Hey," I say. "Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering, uh, what toppings you ordered for the pizza?"

He smirks at me. Damn him. "Pepperoni, cheese, vegetarian supreme, and that's it."

"Cool. Thanks. Sorry again!" I call out, exiting the kitchen and relaying the information to my two friends once I'm sitting back down.

"He knows me," Isabelle says at the mention of the vegetarian supreme. She loves other pizzas, but vegetarian supreme is, like, her current addiction. "He knows me so well."

I smile and shake my head. "You're so weird."

She leans back. "I miss him, you know."

"Me too," Maia comments.

I frown. "He hasn't gone anywhere, you know."

"I know. But it's not the same," Isabelle says.

I mean, she's right. I like hanging out with him, but it's not the same. After a year of spending a lot of time together being the closest thing to close that people get to be, it's weird to just…not be that way anymore. It's weird to think that someone I'm kind of friends with, but not really absolutely friends with, still knows everything about me—like, to the same level of Izzy and Simon. Maybe a little less.

Still. Doesn't make it any less terrifying.

He knows more than Maia does. And, okay, the thing is, I _did _talk to him more than I did to my friends about certain things. I feel like I was still learning how to juggle my best friends, school, my family life, and a boyfriend all at once. And, well, he came to me with his concerns, and he's so very beautifully _open _that I couldn't help but spill my guts whenever I felt like I was anything but fine.

And I miss doing that, I guess. We're the same, I think—except there's less kissing and talking whenever and more general friendliness—but I miss the very huge thing that's missing, basically, which is this: we used to be closer than close, and now we're not. And it sucks.

It really, really sucks.

And the kissing wasn't bad. I miss that too.

I don't know _why _the hell I'm thinking about this right now—in the middle of a Physics tutoring session, which the aforementioned ex-boyfriend is leading—but the thoughts seem to rush into my mind at an unstoppable speed. I take deep breaths. My friends are talking about something, but I can't focus, and all I know is that I wanna lie down and nap or maybe run a thousand miles if it means that these thoughts get left behind.

But I've learned, both from experience and from various TV shows and movies, that you can't outrun your thoughts. Not forever, anyway.

And I guess that's what I'm hoping for—a permanent solution to this feeling of helplessness and loneliness and stuff. And yeah, okay, maybe my life is going outstandingly great right now, what with my GPA having gone up insanely this year and me having good, stable friendships, and with my relationship with my mom improving, but it doesn't mean that there aren't times when I would give anything to go back to my relationship with Sebastian, where I had bad moments but also pretty great ones, or even further back, to my relationship—or whatever it was—with Jace.

But I can't.

The pizza arrives, and I take a slice of the vegetarian one and two of the pepperoni one until I literally cannot eat anymore. I drink two glasses of soda and leave another one by my side for when the Physics starts back up again. Which, by the way, happens in a matter of minutes.

Physics is excruciating. It's science and math combined—my two worst subjects. I die a little bit every single time I get something wrong, or every single time Sebastian starts to explain something that I _know _I won't get.

It's four o'clock by the time our study session's over. Sebastian brings me my coat, which I shrug on, and Maia and Isabelle wait for me by the door.

"Thanks for today," I tell him. "This helped a lot."

"Hey, no problem." He grins. "Good luck on your exams tomorrow, okay?"

"Thanks. You too."

We end the conversation with mutual smiling, and I walk out the doors, joining my friends as they wave goodbye.

* * *

Finals are, like, hell. Actual, literal hell.

APUSH totally kicks my butt, but I actually do really well in Spanish III. Then, on the second day of finals, I kick ass in AP English Lit (I think and hope so, anyway), but get my ass _literally handed to me _in Physics. Holy hell. Hooooooly hell, I failed that final.

On the third (and last, God bless, because I would not be able to take another day of this crap) day of finals, I take my Algebra II final, which is equal parts bearable and terrible, and then hand in my Sci-Fit Lit final, which I think I did pretty well in.

"Oh, God," Isabelle moans on our way out of school. "Goddddd, my Algebra II final."

I frown. "Didn't Simon teach you?"

"We got, uh, sidetracked."

I raise my eyebrows. "I don't wanna know." I frown. "Where _is _Simon, anyway?"

"I told him that I wanted to spend time with the two of you individually, because, well, I'm in the mood for sex today, if you must know, and I don't think you'd appreciate me sticking my tongue down your best friend's throat in front of you." She smiles sweetly.

"You," I point out, "are the literal grossest person in the _history _of gross people in the _entire galaxy_."

"Whatever." Isabelle stops dead in her tracks. "Oh my God."

"What?" I ask.

"I'm such an idiot."

"Why?"

"Oh my _God_."

"_What_?"

"I forgot to empty out my locker." Her eyes widen. "Please, _pleaaaaase _help me."

I smack her arm as we walk back into school. "You're such an idiot. I thought it was gonna be something serious."

"This _is _serious."

"Why?! We're coming back next semester!"

"There's, like, serious stuff in there. People could _look_."

"Like what?" I drop the subject of people looking around in her locker, because, really, she's being unnecessarily paranoid.

"Notes Simon and I pass to each other in class." She shrugs. "They're not all PG, if you know what I'm saying."

"I'm trying not to know," I tell her, walking with her to her locker.

I watch as she examines things and throws most of them away. She decides to stuff all of the notes into a folder and keep that, and then she keeps, like, one other notebook and a few stray pencils before throwing everything away and slamming her locker shut, taking her lock with her.

"There," she states, satisfied. "Done with the first semester of junior year!"

We are. We really, really are.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! _


	25. All Hail the Heartbreaker

_Hii, guys! So I procrastinated this update super hard, but I've also been out today, so there's that. Anyway, it's hereee. Thanks to my awesome beta, IWriteNaked, for beta'ing (duh) and being one of the best people ever. Your letter was the gr9est thing ever, and I love you. Also, as always, thanks to my amazing squad, DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood (I'm staring at your face on Skype right now + thanks for the song rec!), and LuckyAsLockhart. I love you guyssss. _

_Thanks to all of you for reading, and I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_And it's just my luck to end up getting stuck _  
_To everything you are _

_So tonight I'll sit and pick apart your pictures _  
_And overanalyze your words _  
_But the truth is that I've never fallen so hard _  
_It's taking everything in me _  
_Just to forget your sweater so far _

"All Hail the Heartbreaker" by The Spill Canvas

* * *

I think it is a universally accepted fact that the holidays are _the _most stressful time of the year.

They go by pretty quickly, though, which is both a blessing and a curse. My brother comes back from Connecticut once again, and Amatis and Stephen and Mark come by for Christmas, and it's all really nice and my mom drinks a little too much and ends up telling the same embarrassing stories over and over and over again until I am so, so tired that it takes everything inside of me to walk over to my room, shut the door, lock it, change to my pajamas, and _sleep_.

And then, during New Year's, we go over to Westchester, as if the place itself—the whole _freakin' _county—doesn't make me feel as if something is seizing me up and choking me forever and ever and ever. So we stay there, and it's pretty nice, but all I can think of is _oh my God oh my God what if I run into Jace?! _I know it's not gonna happen, because he's living in the city again, but part of me is irrationally afraid that some kind of impossible, hypothetical situation will become a reality.

I am ridiculous.

Anyway, New Year's: my mom gets drunk (again) and we end up sleeping over. It's really nice. I stay up all night and watch the sunrise for no reason at all other than I can't sleep and I wonder if this is how Jace saw the sunrise when he got up to practice soccer and then, quietly, more seriously, I think to myself that I have to be the most pathetic person in the universe, to be lusting over a guy who won't give me the time of day. All he does is glance at me—_glare_, more like—and ignore me every other time. And talk shit about me, apparently, though he doesn't shit-talk me as much as he pretends that what we had never happened.

And I wish that I had that ability, you know, to erase the past in my mind. But my heart hurts in the sharpest of ways whenever I look at him or think of him, and I feel like I'm about to drop from a thousand feet up above. And I shake a little, I think, and it gets hard to breathe or think or do _anything _except take notice in how close we are. But anyway, I look at the sunrise, because I'm pathetic, and then we leave, and I look out as we make our way to the city.

And now, a day before school starts back up, I'm sitting in my room with my phone in hand. My friends—Maia, Isabelle, and Simon—have invited me to go watch a movie with them, but I don't know. It's like, you know, I _want _to go watch the movie more than anything, because I adore my friends, but actually _doing _things sounds so exhausting right now. I want to spend time with them, but I think that staying home in my pajamas watching _Friends _again on Netflix is infinitely more appealing than watching a movie with my friends. Even if it _is _a comedy film. Whatever.

I stay in bed, phone in hand, feeling jittery. I text my friends that I'm not going out with them, and then I wander outside. My brother's gone—he's back in Connecticut now—and Luke and Mom are working. And here I am, alone, and my first thought is: Seb and I would've _killed _for a day like this back when we were together.

And, you see, that's just the weird thing about relationships that end like ours did. You think that everything's fine—that you're friends, that you don't actually get to miss something like that because, well, you'll have it—and then you stumble across moments like this one, where the pain is still there and raw and living inside of you—and then you realize that, despite your wishes and hopes and dreams, everything is not okay. Everything is definitely not okay.

I like Sebastian—as a friend. And he likes me back—as a friend. But I need something more.

And I think I have a name in mind.

But he won't even look at me. The person I want the most won't even meet my gaze and hold it unless it's to make me feel like utter shit, so I drop my phone and sigh loudly and close my eyes. God, I hate everything. I hate feelings. And people. And myself, a little bit.

I am so frustrated that it makes me restless. I regret not having taken up my friends on that movie, but there's no going back now. I feel like doing something reckless, but not reckless enough to make it illegal, so I just go on Facebook and look at Jace's profile, the way I used to before I'd, you know, "gotten over him" and whatnot.

And now I see it. His picture is _him _now. I avert my eyes from it and look at his profile. It won't let me see everything, because we're no longer Facebook friends anymore, but I see enough to know that he still posts articles and everything. It's his birthday in a few days, actually—in less than a week—and I kind of wish that I could join all of his friends in saying happy birthday, but I can't, so I exit his Facebook profile and sulk about how I'm never getting a second chance.

As I've mentioned before, I'm pathetic

My phone buzzes. A text from Sebastian.

_What're you up to?_

I bite my lip. _Oh, you know. At home, praying for the apocalypse to come so I never have to go back to school ever again._

It buzzes again seconds later. _It's amazing how in sync our minds are, Clary. Anyway, if you're not doing anything else, I was wondering if you could come over. Or I could go over. I'm just really bored._

_Okay, weirdo. Come over._

He sends me an _okay _a few seconds later, and I start making my room look a little bit presentable. I put on a bra and make sure no underwear is lying around. Sure, he's _seen _it before, but not as a friend. He saw it as my boyfriend when we were having sex.

Duh.

But now he's just my friend, so I make sure everything's in order before waiting. I want to text my friends, but they'll just freak me out, so I sit on my bed and I wait until Sebastian sends me the "I'm here" text, which comes in about half an hour.

I open the door for him, and there he is. So hot. "Hey," I tell him with a smile. "Come in."

He does. "Sorry for the, uh, random plans." He takes off his coat and holds it in his hands. "I really wanted to get out of this thing with my parents."

I raise an eyebrow. "Your parents? Actually _talking _to you?"

He grins. "Don't get too pumped, Clary. It was just so I could go to this dinner with them and they could have me talk about sports and science and things I'm good at, but I told them I had plans with my girlfriend—because, you know, you're still my girlfriend to them—and yeah."

"I'm—" I shake my head. "Do they not know that we broke up?"

"They knew things were off, but no, not really. They haven't asked, and I haven't told them, so I just…went for it."

"Solid plan." I nod.

"So you're not, like, offended or anything?"

I shake my head. "Nah. I'm single, so it doesn't really affect a current relationship, and we're obviously on good terms, so all is good."

"You're the best person in the world, Fray."

"Uh-huh. I know, Verlac."

We walk into my room. "Did you clean up for me?" he asks.

"A little."

"I'm so flattered."

I punch his arm lightly. "Shut it." I sit on my bed, and he takes my chair and brings it over so he's in front of me. "So," I say, "how come you aren't hanging out with your soccer buddies?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "Like I said, this was gonna get me places."

"Right, but you could've lied."

He sighs. "Fiiiine. I have ulterior motives."

"What a shocker," I say dryly. "What's up?"

"Okay. There's a few things I've been wanting to ask you about Jace, but I haven't."

"Not this." I groan. "Please, please, _please _not this."

"Look, I'm sorry." And he does look sorry. I take note of it. "But I just…I mean, he's part of why we broke up, right?"

I hesitate. Sebastian is so, so great, and I'd honestly spent so much time telling myself that Jace would _not _be part of my decision that I ignored whether or not he was. I mean, yes, there were other things, but I think I'd be lying to him if I said that Jace hadn't crossed my mind while making it.

"I'm an idiot," I reply simply. "A total idiot."

He shakes his head. "I'm not here to make you feel like that, okay? Just because he's the reason—or part of it, anyway—doesn't make you an idiot."

I shake my head back at him. "No, but it does. It really does. I mean, here I am, breaking up with, like, the most wonderful guy in the history of the planet—don't let that get to your head, by the way—and it's all because of a guy who just glares at me and ignores me whenever I even come close to him. It's, like, the stupidest thing a person could do."

He gets closer to me and takes a hand in his. The gesture is friendly, actually; there are no sparks or rainbows or fireworks. There's just us. "Listen, Clary, sometimes our choices make zero sense at all. Zero. I know that it may seem irrational right now, but you ended things for a reason. And he's part of it—which, yeah, I see why you're kinda pissed at yourself, but don't be. He's an absolute ass to you right now, but you wouldn't have kept him in your mind for so long if he weren't a good guy. Right?"

Right.

"And," he continues, "it's not easy for me to give you this advice. We broke up less than two months ago, you know. It's all still there. But I know that you and I aren't meant to be, so I just…" He trails off. "I just want you to be happy."

His words tighten my chest. I was such a crappy girlfriend to him, and all he wants is for me to be happy. God. I clutch his hand and take a shaky breath, trying (and failing) to muster up a smile.

"I want the same for you," I tell him. "And I know you'll be happy. You're, like, the best guy I know."

"This isn't about me."

"I know. I just wanted to tell you that."

He smiles. "Thanks. Clary," he continues, "have you ever thought of, you know, _talking _to him?"

I scoff. "Are you _crazy_?"

"No. I'm serious."

"I can't just _talk _to him."

"Okay." He lets go of my hand and crosses his arms over his chest. "Why not?"

"I feel like he's gonna murder me. I mean, have you seen the way he looks at me?"

He sighs. "He's not gonna _murder _you, Clary."

"Thanks," I say, sarcasm oozing from my voice. "That's so comforting."

He rolls his eyes. "He's not gonna murder you. He's harmless."

"He looks like he's gonna set this building on fire."

"Clary!"

"Sebastian!"

He rakes a hand through his hair. "Clary." His voice is calmer now. "He doesn't wanna murder you. He can't hurt you. So why don't you talk to him?"

"Because you're wrong!"

"He can't—"

"Yes," I tell him, "he can. Oh my God, Sebastian, he can."

"Well, he's not gonna, like, hit you or—"

"Not like that!" I shake my head. "God, Sebastian, not like that. But he _knows _me, you know, and he can hurt me so fast that I wouldn't even have time to blink before it all hits me, you know? I don't wanna hear the insults that could come out of his mouth."

"But they _won't_," he insists. "Look, you said that he liked you, right? A lot." At my nod, he continues. "Well, then, he's just hurt. He won't _mean _anything. You just have to go for it."

I know that he means well, but how do I explain to him that I literally would not be able to handle taking that risk? I'm all about change, really—it's good, healthy, all of that stuff—but this is taking a risk. And that kills me. I'd do it with anything else, but not with this. Never with this. I mean, I spent so much time caring about this one guy, and I know that years of bitterness can do something to a person that no amount of caring could ever bring back. So.

I shake my head. "Seb, I can't."

He stays quiet for a while. "He'd really hurt you, huh?"

"If he said something mean? Like, _yeah_. Yeah, he would."

He sighs. "He'll grow up."

I smile and bite my lip. "God, I hope so."

"And so will you."

"_What_?"

"Taking risks is a part of growing up, you know."

I throw a pillow at him. It hits his face. "Asswipe."

"Creative."

He makes me smile. "Thanks for your concern, Seb. Really."

He smiles back. "Anytime."

* * *

My second semester schedule is a lot better than I expected it to be.

Homeroom: Mr. Hastings  
AP US History  
Spanish III  
Snack  
AP English Literature  
Physics  
Film I  
Lunch  
Algebra II  
Psychology

"Not too bad," Isabelle says. "We still just have the same classes as last semester."

"Bummer."

It seems that I'm that way with everyone except Seb, because he sends me a text that he's now in my Spanish III class. Awesome.

I make my way into homeroom, knowing full well that Jace's too-familiar glare will greet me. And it does. I roll my eyes and settle into my usual seat.

"Is he gonna be like this forever?" Isabelle asks.

I shrug. "Seb told me to talk to him."

She shakes her head. "Boys are crazy."

"Right?!"

After homeroom, I make my way over to APUSH, where I listen to my teacher talk for fifteen minutes about how we can't slack off and this semester is _so _important and let's get right to it, shall we, open your textbooks and read the chapter and answer the questions and there's gonna be a quiz tomorrow. _God_. After that, Spanish III is kind of a breather. I greet Seb and sit in my usual seat. He finds one nearby and settles in there. Isabelle and Maia are surprised (but happy) to find him there, and we all converse until class starts. Afterwards, I make my way out with Isabelle and Maia and wave goodbye to him.

"You two are so cute," Maia comments.

"As friends, Mai. As friends."

"Sure." She shrugs. "Or as…" She drops her voice. "_Lovers_."

"Stoooop!" I shove her away lightly. "You're so gross."

"You love me."

I roll my eyes and follow them out to our lockers. I get my other books and slam the door shut. I decide to stay upstairs; I'm feeling anxious enough. Isabelle stays with me, and Simon and Maia go get us stuff to eat.

"How are you doing?" I ask Isabelle. "I feel like we're always talking about me and my stupid issues."

She shrugs. "I don't have much going on. Well, you know, Simon and I are bound to freak out about the future soon, so there's that."

I grimace. "Right. Second semester of junior year. That does tend to happen."

"Yeah."

I make a face. "I'm sorry, Iz. You two will be okay regardless of what happens."

She sighs. "I don't know. I've never wanted to be tied down to things that happen to be uncertain, you know, and having your first boyfriend live miles upon miles away from you isn't exactly promising. I love Simon, you know? I really, really do. But this is just…" She trails off and shakes her head. "So not worth thinking about right now. Anyway, how are _you_?"

"I'm okay. It's just been the usual today, you know, with the anxiety and Jace hating me and school being hard and me hating mornings. What can you do?" I shrug, feeling my heart gain weight as I speak. My chest feels heavier by the second. "It's fine."

Just then, our friends return with the food. They got me chips and a soda—which, like, _yes_. I thank them and dig in, because soda is my life, and so are chips. I'm not the healthiest, but I'm anxious, so it doesn't really matter. I eat and eat and eat and, well, it's not really helping my nerves. I have AP Lit next, and I have this, like, bad feeling about it.

And I'm right to. I walk into AP Lit with my Coca-Cola can in hand and sit by the window. Our teacher tells us that we're gonna be working in pairs.

"I know that I usually let you select the people you'll be working with, but you've been working with the _same people_, so I chose them for you this time based on who you talk to less."

Oh no.

She starts listing all of them, and my heart beats faster than the second. I'm the fourth one to be called. "Clary Fray and Jace Wayland."

Fuck me.

But we _have _(sort of) talked. I point that out to the teacher later, and she smiles at me and says, "I know. And it was interesting. I'm expecting good work from you two."

Oh. My. God.

The two of us join our desks together. I take out my notebook and pen and write down what we have to do.

We have to read "Sleep" by Haruki Murakami and make up our conclusion. We have to answer _why _we think it ended the way we think it did, and we have to provide different examples, as well as discuss some of the themes. Afterwards, we have to read some Kate Chopin stories and talk about feminism within the pieces. Now, I _love _feminism, obviously, but I hate having to do this with Jace.

"Okay," I say, clearing my throat. "Have you ever, uh, read any of these?"

Jace nods. "I've read 'Sleep' by Murakami."

I raise an eyebrow. "Was it any good?"

"It was interesting. You'd like it."

Oh my God. "Awesome. And I'm guessing you haven't read the Chopin stories?"

"Nope. You?"

"Nah."

He nods. "So you should read 'Sleep' now, I guess."

"I guess so."

So. Effing. Awkward.

I read "Sleep," which does take me a while. It's a pretty long story, but I manage to read it just before the bell rings.

I get one comment in before the bell rings: "She's definitely dead."

Jace blinks. "What?"

"The protagonist. Definitely dead." I take my bag and walk out, painfully aware of Isabelle looking at me.

She walks behind me as Jace, surprisingly, follows me out of the classroom. "Right. Why do you think she's dead?"

"Is she not?"

"Oh, she is. She's really dead."

"Then why are you questioning me?"

"Just curious as to what made you draw that conclusion."

I shrug. "It seems pretty damn obvious that she's dead. I mean, come on."

"Sure."

"So, not to be rude, but why are you following me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he states. "I got switched to Physics now. It's in room—"

"—310. Yeah. I have Physics now too."

"Yaaaay," he says, very much unenthusiastic about the prospect of sharing yet _another _class with me. Same here, Jace. Same here.

Isabelle catches up to me when we walk into Physics. We sit at our usual desks. Her eyes are wide as she urges me to explain what the frick just went down.

"We discussed 'Sleep' by Murakami and then he told me he had Physics. Fascinating, I know."

"It _is_," she replies, very much not sarcastically. "I mean, like, wow. You guys are _talking_."

"It's required."

"_Still_."

I shake my head. "Don't be weird."

"I'm not _weird_," she replies, offended.

"Well, you act like it."

She's visibly upset at this (though I'm not sure if she's _actually _upset, actually; she does really hate being called a weirdo, but she could just be humoring me), but can't reply, seeing as Physics class starts right as she's about to open her mouth. I smirk to myself and pay insane attention to Physics, but my eyes _do _drift over to where Jace is sitting. My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I have to remind myself to breathe. I remember that I left my soda can in my AP English classroom. Crap. Whatever. I pay attention to Physics and bolt when the bell rings.

I hurry over to my Film I class, which is in a totally different building. I settle into one of the seats and watch as the teacher introduces himself. He's an old guy, undeniably hilarious and definitely gay, and it's wonderful. He told this story about his partner almost setting fire to their collection of movies when he was drunk, so that's awesome. Anyway, he gives an overview of the class, and I just don't wanna leave by the time it's over.

I like not sharing classes with people. And, well, by "people," I mostly mean Jace.

Lunch goes by quickly. I've lost my appetite, but Simon brings stuff to me upstairs (because, yeah, I'm not in the mood to go back down), and I eat hesitantly. Isabelle talks about how she got stuck with a total bitch—Catarina, I think—for her project. I smile, but I feel disconnected from myself. I don't know. It's a weird kind of feeling.

The Algebra II teacher gives us a review sheet to complete in class, and it could be done with as many people as we want, so I settle in with Sebastian and Maia and complete it.

"I heard," Seb says, "that you and Jace got paired up for a project together."

I roll my eyes. "Don't mention it."

Maia smiles. "She's been sulking all day because of it."

"I have _not_—"

"Yeah," my friend tells me, "you have."

Sebastian smiles. "At least it's got you talking."

I narrow my eyes. "Shut it, Seb."

"I'm just sayin'."

We focus on completing our worksheet, and I can tell that he has more to say on the subject, but he doesn't. Instead, he lets me go without saying anything else when the bell rings, and I go into Psychology class by myself. I don't share it with anyone else, so I just listen to my (kind of hot) teacher introduce the class to us. When the bell rings, I unlock my phone to see that my friends have bombarded me with messages.

I meet them by my locker, as requested, and we all go to Java Jones. Sebastian, of course, doesn't join us, but I miss him anyway. We go inside the café, grateful for the warmth inside. I order a sandwich and hot chocolate and settle down at our usual booth.

"So," Isabelle starts, sipping her coffee, "what does it feel like, Clary Fray, to have to do a project with Jace Wayland?"

I groan. "Let's not."

She nods, excited. "Let's."

So, of course, that means that the three of them bombard me with questions about Jace for, like, two solid minutes without so much as giving me a break to answer. Seriously. It's all like _how does it feel? _and _are you ready for this right now? _and _has he said anything to you_? and a bunch of little in-betweens that make me want to die.

"Everything's fine. It feels _fine _and _normal._" _It doesn't_. "I'm totally ready. You know, since the two of us had that thing, I've been in a long-term relationship—"

"And he was one of the reasons you ended it," Isabelle points out.

I glare. "Whatever. That doesn't mean that I won't be fine with this, you know? I've had a semester of him ignoring me and us debating over crap in AP English and stuff. I'm _fine_." Only I'm not. I'm very much not.

"Do you think we're stupid?" Simon asks.

"Do you _really _want me to answer that?"

Maia gasps, placing a hand over her chest in mock-hurt. "I am so offended."

I shake my head. "Look, guys, I'm gonna be fine. There's no juicy gossip. We're talking about the stories we're reading and everything, and that's about as much as we've talked. He didn't ask for my number or my Facebook. I'm assuming he can find me if he wants to." But he doesn't.

Isabelle looks at me before shrugging. I know she's just doing it for show—she's _definitely _gonna text me about this later—but it feels nice to have her publicly back me up on this. "Okay. Well," she adds, "for what it's worth, I hope he mans up and contacts you."

Me too. "It won't really matter," I tell her.

They drop the subject, everyone shares stories about their classes. It's pretty boring, but still. Simon's taking a public speaking class, and Maia's taking PE as an elective (like…on purpose), and Isabelle's taking a fashion course. It's all so nice. They seem really happy.

"So," Simon speaks up. "Are you guys signing up for the March SAT?"

"Ugh," Isabelle says. "Why this? Why now?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Yeah, probably. You?"

He nods. "I wanna get it out of the way as soon as possible. And," he adds, excited, "I applied to a summer program."

"Oh my God!" Maia exclaims. "Where?"

"The University of Rochester." He grins. "So, you know, I won't be too far if you guys wanna drive up."

"I'm so happy for you," I tell him.

He smiles. "I haven't even gotten in yet."

"Oh, come on, Simon." Isabelle rolls her eyes, a faint smile on her face. "You're gonna get in."

"You will," I assure him. "You're super smart."

"How long will you be gone for?" Maia asks.

"Three weeks in July," he replies.

"Oh." It's been a long time since we were apart for that long.

"It'll be fine," Isabelle says. "We can go up there once and tour the school, and you, Mr. Lewis, can show me your room."

"Gross," I say. "You're coming along, Maia."

"Damn it."

We banter and talk about school and life and movies and shows until we decide that we need to go home. Because homework. I ride the subway alone with my headphones in and my hands balled in fists inside my coat's pockets. It is freezing outside, I note as I make my way out of the subway station. I walk a few blocks as the sun begins to set. It's not even that late, but it's wintertime, so yeah. I make it into the apartment and sigh happily at the familiar warmth. I take off my coat and look around.

Mom and Luke aren't home, so I make my way into my room and drop the coat on my bed. I have a _little _bit of homework. The AP Lit thing is due on Wednesday, so I'll have to stay after school with Jace to work on it or something. I read the stories so that I can be ready tomorrow, and then I do the rest of the work.

I take a shower, watch a few episodes of _One Tree Hill_ while eating, and then settle into bed, my phone charging on my nightstand.

Yup. This semester's gonna be exciting.

* * *

All of my friends are going to hang at Java Jones, but I can't.

Instead, I'm at the library.

I sit on one of the tables by the back, hoping it'll give us enough privacy to have him _not_ glare at me the whole time. God. I take out my English notebook and my annotated copies of the stories.

This is gonna happen, and it'll be over so quickly and so swiftly that I won't even have to remember it at all. It'll be _fine_. Things'll be _fine_.

I start doodling on the margin and lose myself in it. It starts off as a way to calm my nerves, but I get into it so much that I barely notice when Jace drops his bag on the table with a _thump _and settles down beside me.

_Almost_.

But it actually startles me, and I reach for my notebook, immediately trying to cover my crappy doodles. I don't even register it's him until I actually _lift my head _and see him there, with his eyebrows raised and a bored expression on his face. My heart is beating at a million times per hour, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

"Hi," I say. "Okay. Did you read the Kate Chopin stories?"

He nods. "Yup. 'A Pair of Silk Stockings' and 'Story of an Hour', right?"

I nod back at him. "Yeah. Okay," I add. "Let's start with Murakami." I write SLEEP BY HARUKI MURAKAMI at the top of my notebook in capital letters.

"Okay," Jace says. "So you agree that she's dead."

"Yup." I add a bullet point and write _main character is dead_. "But we need to support this."

"Okay. Well, there's _Anna Karenina_," he points out.

I frown. "What?"

"It's about death."

"That's not something we can add."

"Well, it's a hint."

"But it's subjective."

"Literature is subjective, Clary."

I groan, frustrated. "Yeah, I know. But we're supposed to be listing facts _within _the piece that we think support our claim, and this doesn't support a claim. It's a shot in the dark."

"No, it isn't."

"Prove it," I say.

"The themes match up! If you look up analyses on—"

"Look," I tell him, "I'm not saying it's wrong. I'm _not_," I add, glaring him for the look he gives at me. "But, the truth is, it's not something that we can support with concrete evidence, you know? Yes, adding a book with a theme that relates to the story's theme is a common technique, but it doesn't mean that the teacher will think of this as something with sufficient evidence, okay? We can _mention _it, but it's not one of our main arguments. No way."

He slumps against his chair, defeated. "Fine."

I fight the urge to smile and write it down by the side. "What else?"

"Well, you tell me, since you know _all _about the correct type of evidence we're supposed to be looking for."

I roll my eyes at him. "Well," I say. "Ugh. Hold on. I highlighted the shit out of this." I nod. "Okay. So there's the fact that, during breakfast, her family ignores her. She's kind of drifting through life, you know? And it's like sleep sets her free—kind of like death would. And that last scene? It feels like it's going on a loop. Like, that's where she died. And water! The water being poured at her feet by some mysterious figure—the Grim Reaper, maybe?—and the drowning." I'm rambling, not really making any sense, but I don't care. "She's so, totally, entirely dead."

"Yeah." He nods. He, too, is getting excited. Oh my God. "And, you know, no one really notices that she's doing anything any differently."

"Exactly! And there's all of these little hints…"

The rest of the "Sleep" analysis goes by well. The two of us really loved the story, so it's fun to analyze it, and we _do _manage to sneak in a mention of the _Anna Karenina _parallels just before the conclusion. We analyze it and write the essay in an hour, and then we move on to the Kate Chopin stories.

"Okay," I say, pulling out "A Pair of Silk Stockings" and laying it out visibly. I turn the page of my notebook and write KATE CHOPIN on the top, and A PAIR OF SILK STOCKINGS on the first line. "What'd you think of this one?"

He shrugs. "I don't really _love _her stories, you know."

"Oh?"

"It's just…" He struggles with this for a second. "I thought that the main character was a little selfish."

"_Selfish_?" I ask, incredulous. "You thought—_what_?"

Jace sighs. "Look, she has this family, okay? It doesn't matter that she has a hard life. Her priority should still be to support them. They can't do it for themselves, you know. She's selfish. She bought a pair of _silk stockings _and a bunch of other crap when she could've been giving stuff to her kids."

"You're looking at it wrong," I tell him, shaking my head. "Yeah, she acted a _little _selfishly, but she's been selfless since she's been raising these kids alone, you know? She's done everything for them. She just wanted to indulge in the things she used to love for _one day_. It's not like she abandons them."

"But she wants to."

I shake my head again. "No, she doesn't. She just doesn't wanna go back to struggling. But she does."

"It's still selfish! Her children are gonna be hungry and cold and all because she wanted to spend one day eating fancy food and putting on fucking silk _stockings_."

I roll my eyes at him. "It's a realistic portrayal of human beings. She went out there intending to do something for her children, but she realized that she had the right to do something for herself, too. She'd been buried under the pressure of raising her children and providing for them all by herself, and now she has this chance to become someone else for the day. I'm not saying it's _right_, but it's reasonable and understandable, you know?"

He shakes his head. "I can't say I do."

I narrow my eyes at him. "So now you're the picture of selflessness? You've _never _done anything for yourself?"

"It's not the same thing," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I do the things I do because I _can_."

"So could she," I point out.

He lets out a frustrated breath. "Clary, she had kids and was poor. The kids probably weren't healthy. They needed better clothes. She was a mom before she was anything else—"

"And that's unfair!" I lower my voice after a glare from the librarian. "Before she's a mom or a daughter or anything, she's a _person_. Yes, she's a character, but a character portraying a _person_, and she did something that she needed before going insane from the responsibility and everything. Yeah, it was a little reckless, but necessary."

He slumps back. "Write both points down. Having a counterargument will help us, anyway."

"But mine will be the main one?"

"I guess."

I smile to myself and write everything down. We move to the next story—"Story of an Hour"—and argue about the fact that she felt oppressed despite her seemingly okay marriage. Jace argues that she had no reason to feel oppressed, of course, and I go on a rant about how societal expectations pressured her into this marriage. She wanted to be _free _and _single _and she had to be stuck in a house _despite _having what seemed like an okay marriage. He wasn't abusive, but that didn't mean that she was happy. After I give Jace a piece of my mind, he seems to understand the whole thing better, and even helps me find evidence for the argument.

So, of course, we end up writing about Kate Chopin's feminist ideals, such as the fact that women should not be tied down to a certain job or role just because society expects that of them. We talk about how marriage can be oppressive in itself because it can make women feel limited, especially in the 19th century. We talk about gender roles and the importance of feminism and all of that and, before six o'clock, just when the library's about to close, we have our essays.

"Do you know if she wants these printed or not?" I ask Jace.

He shrugs. "Do both. Handwritten and printed."

I nod. "Thanks for meeting me here today."

"Well, I don't wanna _fail_," he says matter-of-factly. "It wasn't bad. They're good stories."

"Yeah." I sling my bag over my shoulder. "They are."

The two of us exit the school in silence, neither of us saying anything until we reach the subway station. "Anyway," he says, "you're taking the Brooklyn train, so—"

"I live in Manhattan now, actually," I tell him. "So I'm just taking the train downtown."

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Why?"

"So am I. That's, uh, where I'm living. It's just two stops away, but yeah."

"I'm three stops away," I say. "So we should go."

"Yup."

We sit beside each other in silence. My heart hasn't stopped galloping inside my chest, though I don't know why. The two of us aren't exactly _friendly_—we talk the way acquaintances do, or the way mean girls on TV do when they're pretending to be nice to people they actually hate. I don't know. It's still unnerving, but he says goodbye as he gets out of the train, and I wonder what everything means the whole way home.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! _


	26. Stick

_HI guys I'm in a huge hurry right now so I apologize for a) not replying to some reviews before uploading (I'll do it in the carrr), and b) this really shitty AN. Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing and to my friends for being dabomb dot com. I love you guys. Hope you like it!_

_Thank you to ByTheAngellsThatWillHerondale for suggesting the song! And thank you to spikeyhairgood for updating! (Hii - spikeyhairgood)_

* * *

_Long long time ago_  
_You and I put on a show_  
_Then we ran it in the ground_  
_You said it's not enough_  
_Don't want a broken love_  
_You were nowhere to be found_  
_Even after something's gotta hold on_

_Did any of me stick at all?_  
_Was it really no one's fault?_  
_Can you hear me singing through the walls_  
_That we used to lean on?_  
_There's a part of you that stays with me_  
_Someone else gets to know_  
_Did any of me stick at all?_

_Did any of me ever stick at all?_

_..._

_We are the road untaken_  
_The moon that's fading_  
_If it means that you and me we gotta break it_  
_Well I'm done faking_  
_But I need to know_  
_Do you remember who I am?_

_Did any of me stick?_  
_Did any of me stick?_

"Stick" - Ingrid Michaelson

* * *

"Anachronistic," Simon says, looking at the three of us expectantly.

"OH!" I call out, raising my hand subconsciously. "Outdated. It means outdated."

"Yup," he tells me, adding a point under my name.

"Okaaaay," he says. "Uh, hackneyed."

"Cliché," Isabelle speaks up, beating me to it. Damn.

"Correct," Simon tells her, all too happy to write a point below his girlfriend's name. Damn them.

We're studying for the SAT, which is in a week, and we (obviously) decided to make a game out of it. The one who ends up with the most points wins. I mean, we'd have included Simon in this, but he aced his practice test. Seriously. Over 2000 points after the first two weeks of reviewing.

He's made us all determined to finish taking it before our senior year, so we're busting our balls here. And I'm winning the game. Maia's losing. It's pretty tragic.

We keep going through our SAT words—there's over one hundred of them—and determine that I win the vocabulary section. However, after taking _three _practice tests and only counting the math scores, I realize that I'm pretty screwed. Maia and Isabelle score pretty well—low 600s, which is better than my measly 510, 490, and 500 scores. I'm doomed. I'm gonna fail the SAT, and then I'm gonna be stuck living with my mother and Luke until I die.

The whole thing is really tragic.

We keep studying until my brain feels like it's turning into mush and I can't read passages or even consider doing math problems. This is how we're spending our Saturday night. _Seriously_. Isabelle looks like she wants to die, and I feel like I want to die right along with her. I hate, hate, hate the SAT. This whole thing blows. I mean, I can probably apply without taking the SAT, right? To the right colleges, anyway.

Crap. Probably not.

I fall back on Isabelle's bed and feel like curling up and falling asleep already, but Simon's telling us that we can't nap. It's only four in the afternoon, but it feels like it's three in the morning and I haven't slept in days.

I yawn. It's just the right temperature in here—cold enough to sleep, but not cold enough to make me regret taking off the rest of my layers and only keeping my tank top and cozy sweater. I get under the covers, ignoring Simon's glare, and promise him that I'll wake up in two hours.

Which I do. Because he sprays whatever on my face.

"Ugh." I'm a little disoriented, and the lights hurt my eyes, but whatever. "Do we have to keep studying?"

"_We_," he says, motioning to the people who'd obviously stayed awake while I napped, "are taking a little break. With food."

They're eating on the floor. Naturally. There's a platter with ranch dressing in the center and celery, steamed broccoli, baby carrots, and steamed asparagus around it.

"Oh my God," I say, not realizing how hungry I was until right now. I make my way to the floor and dip one of each in the dressing, and they make my mouth water even more. Yeah, I like to eat healthy. Sue me.

We eat for ten minutes before I get some soda from the kitchen. After that, we all start studying again—until eight, in fact, and by then everyone wants to die, and even Simon calls it quits. Thank _God_.

"Okay," I say. "I have to get going. Si, wanna walk to the station together?"

He nods. "One sec."

"Wait," Isabelle says. "Why aren't you staying?"

"Wedding stuff." Yup. My mom's getting married. _The day after my SAT_. It's gonna be a hectic weekend.

"It's eight."

"Believe me, she's up planning until two every day."

"Oh, God. Okay," she says, turning to Simon. "Let's go downstairs, then."

I put on my second sweater, shoes, and grab my coat. "I'll start heading down." I say bye to Maia, who's staying over at Isabelle's, and make my way down.

I send an _I'm on my way _text to my mom and wait for my two friends, who are undoubtedly having a heated make-out session either in Alec's room or in the bathroom. Definitely not in front of Maia, though. They're more decent than that. I think.

They finally meet me by the door, looking flushed and very obviously like they were going at it. Gross. Isabelle opens the door, gives me a hug, and gives Simon a goodbye kiss before seeing us off.

New York City is _freezing_. It's March, and it's in the 30s. That's usually not killing me, but it is today. I pray to God that I don't catch a cold, even though I don't really believe in God, but I _do _believe that I don't wanna get sick. Nope.

"Hey," Simon says. "You okay?"

"Weirdly freezing."

"Huh."

"How was your make-out session with Isabelle?"

"Whaaaat?"

"You know what." I shake my head. "You're unbelievable."

"Okay, okay, we made out."

"In the bathroom?"

"Yup. Hit my head a couple of times. Not complaining."

I smile. "Are things good between you two?"

He lets out a breath. "Things are okay," he says slowly. "You know, they're good. It's just—" He hesitates for a second. "It's just that we're about to get to a point in our lives where we have to make huge choices, you know? Where to go to college, what we wanna do…and there's a chance that we end up far away from each other."

My stomach turns. The idea of them being apart is weirdly foreign. I mean, they're my best friends. Together, they're inseparable. Stronger. Like Monica and Chandler from _Friends_.

"Yeah," I tell him. "But why let that bother you now? We still have over a year until we know where we're going."

"But we have to think about that, you know?" He shrugs. "And it sucks. I wish that we didn't have to maybe be separated."

I give him a sad smile as we walk down the stairs and into the subway station. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he says, swiping his MetroCard and going in. I go in after him, and this is where we part ways.

"Bye, Si." I give him a hug. "Text me when you're home."

"Of course. You too, okay?" I nod. "Bye, Fray."

I ride the subway with my headphones in, dreading the point in time when I'll have to go back out into the cold. I don't know what's wrong with me, really, but I guess it's the cold and the snow and how it feels like it's about to rain and there's a breeze that chills me to the core and can I just stay here? They call my stop, so the answer to that is a definite no, and I make my way out onto the streets.

I walk all the way to my apartment building, too focused on watching out for people who could be following me (my mom's made me paranoid about going out on the New York City streets, okay?) to notice the person standing in front of my apartment building.

"Clary?"

My eyes widen as I recognize his voice. "Sebastian?"

"Heeeey." He sways as he walks, indicating that a) he is definitely wrong, and b) something must've happened for him to get this wasted and then come to my house. I'm praying to the same God I prayed to earlier—you know, the one I don't believe in—that he doesn't wanna get back together. He walks over and gives me a hug, and he reeks of alcohol. Jesus.

"Hi," I reply. "Hey. How are you?"

He blinks. "Not so good," he says.

"Oh?"

"That's sort of why I came here."

I frown. "What happened?"

"My mom kinda died."

"Kinda?!" I grab his arm and drag him over to the steps that lead up to my apartment building. "What?"

"Yeah." He sighs. "A few hours ago."

"Oh my God," I say, grabbing his hand immediately. "What happened?"

He shrugs. "She was in an accident and there was a lot of blood and broken things and she just _died_."

"Were you at the hospital?"

"A few hours ago."

"Why aren't you with your dad?" I ask.

He snorts. "Yeah, okay. He told me to get the hell out of there and leave him alone."

My heart hurts for him. I mean, seriously. His dad is such a major dick. "Seb—"

"It's okay," he says, waving me off. "I don't even know why I came here tonight. I just knew that you—" He places a hand on my shoulder. "You'd understand."

"Of course." I bite my lip. I wanna invite him in, but he's really drunk, and my mom would _kill _me. "Seb, why don't we go to your house? I'll go with you."

He shakes his head vehemently. "Noooooo. No. I'm not going back there. I can't—I can't."

"Where are—okay," I say. "Come with me."

He follows me inside. I have no idea _what _I'm doing, to be perfectly honest, but I have to try. I'm sure I already know my mother's answer, but I hope she changes her mind. _Come on, come on, come on_.

"Okay." I place both of my hands on his shoulders. I have to stand on my tiptoes to do it, but still. "Wait out here for me, okay? Don't go anywhere."

"Okay."

I grab my keys from my bag and open the apartment, closing the door and locking it before looking for my mom—who is, as expected, sitting at the dinner table, looking at wedding stuff. I bite my lip, seriously dreading this conversation.

She looks up and smiles. "Hey. How was your day?"

"Good. Hey," I tell her. "I kind of need to ask you something."

She frowns. "Okay."

"You remember my ex, right?"

"Sebastian? Of course."

"Okay." I tap my foot, needing to release the nerves somehow. "Okay. So his mom died today, and he got really, really drunk, because his dad told him to get out of his sight, basically, and so he's outside, and he's really drunk, and he has nowhere to go."

Mom's eyes widen. "What?"

"Can he stay with us?"

"You want to know if your teenage ex-boyfriend who happens to be _very_ drunk—"

"His mom died, and his dad told him to fuck off!"

"You wanna know if he can _stay with us_?"

"Yeah, Mom. Because you know that he's a pretty decent guy. He's just going through a _really _rough time right now."

She bites her lip. "Look, honey, I love you. And Sebastian is really nice. But no. I'm sorry. He'll have to find someplace else to go."

I wanna punch her in the face, but I settle for giving her my bitch face/stare and say, "Well, I'm accompanying him. I'm gonna go with him until we find someone and I'll drop him off."

"No," Mom replies. "That's—"

"Incredibly dangerous?" I raise an eyebrow. "So's him roaming around, _drunk_, without a place to stay. I mean, seriously, ground the fuck out of me if you will, but I'm going with him."

"Clarissa," Mom says, outraged. "For the love of God, you can't—"

"Not now, Jocelyn."

"If you're gonna go," she tells me, "then go now. And be back as soon as possible. Is your phone charged?"

I nod. "I'll text you."

I grab a water bottle from the fridge and make my way out of the apartment. "Hey," I tell Seb. "Here. Drink this." He takes the bottle and does as I say. "Okay. Listen, my mom said that you can't stay with us. I tried really hard, but she won't budge. Do you have anyone else?"

He looks so utterly heartbroken that I wish I could sneak him in. But I can't. "Well," he says, "I mean, there's the guys from the football team. I know Jace's parents aren't in town."

His mom. Huh. "Well," I say, hating myself as the words stumble out of my mouth, "I could take you there."

He nods. "Okay."

"Just call him and ask for his address, okay?"

He does as I say while we make our way out of my building. His speech is insanely slurred, but he manages to tell me the address, and I write it down. Awesome. I'm gonna die. I add it to my phone's maps and ask for directions there. We go straight for the subway. He's one stop north of me, so I take the train that goes uptown, and we stop there. I have to loop my arm with Sebastian's to make sure we both get out of the subway, and we make our way out together.

We're two blocks away from Jace's house when it starts raining.

First, it's tiny little drops that seem to dissolve into nothing, which leads me to believe that it's harmless. But then—then it starts pouring, so I put my phone away, and I tell Sebastian to run.

It's a bitch to cross the street. The light is _red_, and we don't have an umbrella, and my flimsy jacket doesn't do much right now. He has a hoodie on, thank God, but we're both soaked by the time we're standing outside of Jace's apartment building.

"His is the penthouse," Sebastian tells me, raising his voice so I can hear him over the sound of the rain.

Jace buzzes us in after I tell Sebastian to tell him we're here, and we make our way to the lobby area. These are really fancy apartments, actually, and we have to wait until Jace comes downstairs to ride the elevator with him.

And he's definitely not expecting to see _me _there.

"Hi," I tell him. "He showed up like this at my house."

He scans me and Sebastian, taking in our soaking bodies, and ushers us into the elevator. Sebastian is almost falling over, and Jace has to help me carry him inside.

"Where do we set him down?"

"My room," he tells me, guiding me there silently. "Before we set him down, can you go to the closet outside and get a towel?"

"Sure," I say, finding the closet easily. I take out a navy blue towel and set it down on the bed, and then we set Sebastian down. He almost falls down, but we keep him seated.

"I have to get some clothes for him," Jace says. "You're both soaked."

"Yeah, well, it's fucking pouring outside." I shiver while holding Seb up. "I don't mean to rush you or anything, but I'm gonna get pneumonia pretty soon."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm almost done." He brings a pair of sweatpants and a sweater. "We're gonna have to dress him."

For some reason, it's kind of weird. Like, _yeah_, I've seen him naked—multiple times, actually—but this is weird. Not like I have a choice, though. "Okay," I say. "Here, or in a bathroom?"

"Here's fine."

We take off his hoodie, and then the t-shirt he has underneath it, and I admire my ex-boyfriend's beautiful body for a second before we take off his pants. Now he's just standing in his slightly wet underwear.

Jace sits Sebastian back down, and I take off his jeans and put on the sweatpants. It's pretty weird to be dressing the guy I dated for a year. I mean, seriously. Anyway, we put on the warm sweatshirt, and Sebastian shivers.

"Should we lay him down?"

"He doesn't seem to be that drunk," Jace observes. "Yeah, let's do that. On his side, though. And I'm leaving the towel in case he pukes."

I make a face and do as he says. I'm still shivering, but I will myself to feel warmer. Once Sebastian is all positioned and not dying, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I'm okay. This is okay. He'll be okay.

"What happened?" Jace asks, frowning.

"Jace," I say, "I mean, not to be a huge bother or anything, but could I borrow some clothes and put mine in the dryer? Because I'm quite sure that I'm dying."

"Sure." He shrugs. "I'm not gonna be blamed for your death."

"Oh, you're too nice. Please stop."

He hands me a sweater and goes to his mom's room to get me some old sweatpants of hers. I change in his bathroom and emerge with his (and his mom's) clothes on. "Thanks," I mutter. "Should we go to the laundry room?"

"Oh, we have the machines inside the house."

Fancy. "Cool."

He shows me where they are. Once everything's drying, he asks again, "What happened?"

"Right." I sigh. "So, his mom died today. It was an accident or something. Anyway, I'd been at a study group, and I got home and he was outside my building, and I asked my mom if he could stay with us, but of _course _she said no, because she didn't want an intoxicated boy ruining her precious life." I roll my eyes. "Anyway, so I told her that I was going with him wherever he went, because I wasn't gonna let him go alone like this, and that's when he told me to come here. I didn't—you know," I tell him. "I didn't mean to intrude. I know that we aren't on the best of terms, but it seemed like we could put our shit aside for this."

"I totally agree." He frowns. "Man. But why isn't he with his dad?"

"Oh. I can't believe I skipped that part. So, okay, his dad's this massive dick, and he told Sebastian that he didn't wanna see his face. His dad basically told him to fuck off, and he can't—" I take a breath. "He can't go home like this."

"Right." He nods. "I just—I don't really know what to say to him when he wakes up. I don't know him as well as you do."

"Well, I can't just _stay_. I'm pretty sure neither of us wants that."

"Look," he says, "I'm not crazy about the idea, but he needs you. He doesn't need _me_. He went to you."

He did. He went to me.

I close my eyes. "Let me see what I can do, okay?"

"Besides," he adds, "you can't go out when it's 'fucking pouring' outside." He imitates my earlier disdain at the rain with a smirk. "And I don't have an umbrella."

I make a face. "What kind of insane family doesn't own an umbrella?"

"An insane one."

I sigh and dial Isabelle's number. She picks up on the third ring. "Clary? It's eleven. I figured you'd be passed out after the studying."

"Trust me, I'm super tired. But, um, something came up. Hey, if Mom calls, I'm there, okay?"

"And where are you really?"

"I'm with Sebastian."

"Oh?"

"In Jace's apartment."

"Clary!" She sounds scandalized. "What kind of dirty stuff have you gotten into?"

I shake my head. "This is _so _not the time for that, Lightwood. I'll text you, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

Jace looks at me expectantly. "What did she say?"

"That she'll cover for me."

"And it's not the time for?"

"Threesome assumptions."

He looks like he's gonna be sick. "Yup. Nope. Okay."

I call my mom and tell her I'm staying over at Isabelle's, because Sebastian's friend's apartment was closer to hers than our home, and it's fucking pouring. She agrees without an argument, thank God, and I hang up.

"All's set. Looks like I'm staying."

"Okay, well, guest bedroom's by mine."

I follow him to the room, my bag slung over my shoulder. "Thanks, by the way. For letting me stay. For not being responsible for my death. And wake me up as soon as he's up, okay?"

Jace nods. "It's why you're here, after all."

_And goodnight to you too_, I think to myself as he closes the door.

* * *

Someone is moving me from side to side, which is totally unnecessary and deeply unappreciated.

I open an eye. Thankfully, it's dark; whoever it is had common sense and didn't kill my eyesight by turning on the lights.

"What?" I ask, but it sounds more like a groan. I'm exhausted.

"He's awake."

"What?" I repeat.

"Clary, come on."

It all comes rushing back to me in a second: the studying, coming home, seeing Sebastian, bringing him to Jace's.

Me agreeing to sleep over.

And that's Jace. Talking to me.

Oh God.

"Okay," I mumble, making my way out of bed. I feel sick—I should definitely be in bed, or at least drink some water or eat something—but instead I follow Jace through the darkness and into his room, which is dimly lit, but with enough lighting so that I can make out Sebastian sitting up.

"Hey," he tells me. "I can't believe you're here."

I climb into bed with him and turn to look at Jace, who seems to be leaving. "Jace?"

"Yeah."

"Stay with us."

It isn't really because I want _him _to be there, but because I want _someone _to be there in case things get too emotional. And just in case something happens.

"Okay." He closes his door and brings his chair closer to the bed. He sits on it, his legs resting on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" I ask Seb, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Like crap. God, I have a shitty hangover."

"Yeah, well, I kind of gave up on telling you to drink water when it started pouring out."

"Sorry. Oh my God, Clary, I'm so—"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I mean it." I settle down beside him. "I'm your friend, you know? That's what I'm here for."

"And man, Jace—"

Jace shakes his head. "Don't sweat it."

"Fuck," Sebastian says. "I just feel so fucking shitty for dumping all of this on you."

I roll my eyes. "Well, don't. I mean, I know it's easier said than done, but I love you, you know? I can't really speak for Jace—do guys even say I love you to each other?—but I can tell you that I wanna be here for you through this."

He wraps an arm around me. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Jace says. "Same here. You can crash here as long as you need to."

"Thanks, man. You don't know what that means to me."

I smile up at him. "You'll be okay."

He doesn't say anything. We stay like that for a little while, and then he says that he's gonna pass out, so Jace and I make our way outside.

"Thanks for staying," I whisper to him as he takes me back to my room. "I was a little scared, you know, but thanks."

"That wasn't bad," he says. "I'll see you later?"

I nod. "What time is it, by the way?"

"Almost four. We should get some sleep."

"Of course. I'll try to be out of your hair as soon as possible tomorrow, okay?"

I'm not sure about what his face looks like right now, but he hesitates for a second before saying, "Okay."

And I walk back into my room, my heart wedged in my chest, blocking everything else. I'm not even sure if I'm breathing okay, but it hits me that I'm here. With Jace. And he isn't hating on me.

I'm sure that he still dislikes me heavily, but this has to be good. Or at least an improvement.

My thoughts are too loud to let me settle into sleep, so I grab my headphones from my bag and get my phone from the nightstand. I'd fallen asleep mid-conversation with Isabelle, but she sent a lot of exclamation marks and a bunch of questions that I don't know how to answer, so I ignore them and head straight for my music library. I make a quick playlist and lie down, willing for sleep to come to me.

* * *

I wake up to the very distinct sound of video games and screaming.

After I make sure my hair isn't too terrible and stuff, I make my way outside, where I see the two guys sitting in the living room, playing a video game.

They're playing Mario Kart.

I stand back, amused, as they continue to play without knowing I'm here. When Jace beats Sebastian, the latter lets out a yell and turns around, his eyes widening as they meet mine.

"Hi, Seb."

"Claryyyyy."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you still drunk?"

"Nope. Just surprised to see you there."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to sneak up on you. Thanks for waking me up, by the way."

"Sorry," he answers sheepishly.

"It's fine." I give him a smile and turn to Jace, who's looking at me. "I'm gonna get my stuff from the dryer, okay?"

"Sure."

I do so. My jeans are a little wrinkled, but that's fine. I walk back into the guest room and change, a strange feeling settling inside of me. I think it's the realization that, when we see each other again at school, things will be as they were before—he'll be glaring at me and we'll pick fights during AP Lit and we'll ignore each other the rest of the way.

I gather my crap and make my way out. "Where should I put this?" I ask Jace.

He stands up from the couch and gets it for me. He goes into his room and emerges from it moments later. "Taken care of."

"Well, then, I guess I should go."

"Oh, come on, Clary," Seb says. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

I shake my head. I _am _starving, and I do feel pretty damn weak, but I know Jace wants me out of here. "It doesn't matter. Mom probably made breakfast."

"I'll make you something," Sebastian says. "I mean, Jace already told me that I'm free to use whatever in the kitchen, so let me make you something."

I want to argue, but my stomach chooses to rumble _loudly _at that very moment. "Fine," I say, sitting down on the couch. "Thanks, Seb."

He smiles. "Welcome."

I watch as he disappears into the kitchen. "I'm sorry," I tell Jace. "I wanted to leave, but—"

"Clary," he tells me, actually meeting my gaze _without _a glare, "it's fine. It's not the most pleasant thing in the world, but I'm not gonna kick you out."

"For what it's worth," I say to him, "I'm really sorry."

I think that we both know that I'm talking about more than our current morning situation, so he just shrugs. "There's nothing we can do about it now."

I bite my lip. "I mean, I know that—"

"Clary?"

"Yeah?"

"I really don't wanna talk about it right now."

Me neither, but it felt right. "Will you ever?"

"What?"

"Will you ever actually _want _to talk about it?"

He sighs, exasperated. "To be honest? No. Never. It doesn't matter what you say, you know?"

"So we're just gonna, you know, ignore each other forever?" _Even though we're pretty damn great_.

He shrugs. "It's for the best. Didn't end so well last time."

I roll my eyes. "Fine."

Sebastian calls out to me that breakfast is ready, so I get my stuff and go into the kitchen. I eat the food standing, on the spot, both because it's good and because I _need _to get out of here. Once I'm done, I turn to Seb and say goodbye.

"What? Already?"

I keep my voice low. "Seb, I have to go, okay? If you wanna meet up someplace else later today, that's awesome, but—"

"Why not here?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I can't. I can't do it."

He nods and pulls me into a hug. "It's okay."

I sniffle and let out a nervous string of laughter. "I should be the one comforting you."

"This feels nice, though."

I wrap my arms around him tightly. "It does." We let go of each other, and the two of us walk toward the entrance. "Listen, no more drinking, okay? And if you need to talk, I'm a phone call or a subway stop and a few blocks away. Promise me that you won't do anything stupid."

He nods. "I promise. And the talking thing? That goes both ways."

I nod back. "Thanks, Seb. I'll see you."

I make my way out of the apartment, feeling an overwhelming urge to cry. _Pull it together, Fray_, I tell myself, walking towards the subway station. I call my mom and tell her I'm on my way back, and I call Isabelle, too, because I need to get this out of my system, and Mom isn't expecting me home for a bit, since Izzy's is farther away.

"Hey," she says. "Spill."

I tell her every little detail, and I'm pretty much crying by the end of it, because I'm too sentimental for my own good. _God_. When did he start meaning this much to me? When did I stop being over it?

Oh my God. I'm not over it.

Isabelle tries to comfort me over the phone, but I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't. I can't stop crying or feeling or thinking. I just wish that all of me would just shut _up _so that I can be okay for once. God.

I finally stop crying. It takes me ten minutes to pull myself together, which is ten minutes too long, and then I hang up the phone and go into the subway station. I listen to music the entire ride home, hoping it'll calm me down even more. I dry my eyes and blink rapidly, taking deep breaths before getting out. I make my way over to my apartment building and enter the actual apartment, feeling a rush of relief when I see that no one's home.

I stumble into bed, exhausted. It's only ten in the morning. I feel so _tired_, enough so that I decide to take a mini nap. It takes a while for my thoughts to shut up, but exhaustion takes over eventually, and I fall asleep easily, my covers wrapped around me as utter silence lulls me to sleep.

* * *

The rest of the week goes by in a blur, really. My predictions were right, sort of. I make more of an effort with Seb, especially since I know that he's going through a rough time, and I even open up to him about Jace a bit—just because he asked. I begged him not to let that influence the way he acted around him, and he listened, because it's Saturday now and the two of them are still living together. Or, well, Seb is staying with him. Whatever.

Jace and I have been—and still are—ignoring each other. With him, it's because he doesn't see a point in pursuing any kind of relationship. He thinks we're doomed to screw it up every time. I, however, am ignoring him because he's an _ass _who would rather believe a messed-up thought than give this a chance. I mean, what we had was _great_. I know that he knows that; it wouldn't have affected him like this if it hadn't been. But, I mean, does he have to be such a pessimistic ass about it? Honestly.

I try to let these thoughts exit my mind as I get ready to take the SAT. It's obnoxiously early, but still. I get ready to take it, as I've been preparing for over a month, and then I just sit down and take it.

And it's hell. I mean, I've known this for a while, but it is actual, literal hell. I'm starving and tired and cranky and confused and I want to go home and curl up under the covers and sleep, but instead I have to answer all of these confusing math questions that I don't entirely understand. I hate everything.

As soon as the (agonizingly long) test is over, I meet up with my friends. We go to Java Jones to eat and complain about it, and Isabelle brings up Jace, and I tell her to not, and they all notice how cranky I am, but they don't comment on it. Which is nice, I guess, but whatever. I leave for the subway before everyone else, apologizing for my mood and telling them that I'll see them at the wedding tomorrow, and I make my way to my house with music blasting from my headphones as I a) struggle to stay awake and b) struggle not to cry over my messy feelings and exhaustion.

"I'm taking a nap," I tell my mom as soon as I walk in. "I'm all yours after four."

"_Four_?"

"Mom, it'll be, like, a less-than-four-hour-long nap. It's not that bad."

"Clary!"

"I'm really tired."

"How will you be able to get enough sleep for the wedding later?"

"Oh, trust me, I'll still be exhausted by then."

She purses her lips. "Okay. How did the test go?"

"Later, Mom." I go into my room and lock the door. I take out my phone, place it on my nightstand, change into my pajamas, make sure my room is dark, and pass the fuck out.

* * *

The wedding day is here, and I want to die.

My mom wakes me up at the crack of dawn and has me following her around everywhere. Amatis is her maid of honor, and she joins me in running these crazy errands for my mom. I'm half-asleep the entire time, because, of course, I woke up at four in the afternoon yesterday and didn't sleep until almost two in the morning, but Mom woke me up just before seven. I got literally five hours of sleep. A little less.

I want to die.

But now, finally, we're at the church. Amatis and I are dressed. It's a pretty small ceremony, and my mom isn't close to very many people, so I'm her only bridesmaid. Jon is here, too, but he's over in Luke's room or whatever. I don't know how this works. I check my phone.

Isabelle: I'm hereeee.

Simon: Obviously, so am I. We came together.

Maia: Almost there. I missed the first subway, but seriously. Almost there.

Clary: Don't worry about it, guys. She's still getting ready.

Maia: Still?!

Clary: Shush. She's stressed enough as it is.

Isabelle comes in the back room by herself, thankfully, after I send her a separate message asking her to. She smiles at me and gives me a hug. She greets Amatis, too, who's holding little Mark in her lap. He's being a little bitch, as toddlers often are, but whatever.

"Is she almost done?"

"Yeah," I tell her. "I don't know why she's taking so long."

Just then, the door to the room opens, and my mom comes out. She looks radiant in her simple, long dress. It has long sleeves and intricate patterns woven throughout, but she is an artist, and she knows, just as I do, that it looks glorious. Her hair is a gorgeous shade of red, but everything about her seems enhanced, and I don't know if the blush on her cheeks is because of the makeup or because of her excitement.

I know that my mom and I have not had the best relationship. I mean, that's kind of an understatement, but yeah. She's my mom. And that doesn't mean that I have to love her, but I know that, despite everything, she cares about me. And I care about her too. Looking at her ridiculously happy self, I feel happy too.

"Wow," Isabelle says. "You look gorgeous."

My mom looks slightly surprised to find Isabelle there, but it wears off in a second. "Thank you, Isabelle."

"I'll go back out now," my best friend says. "Congratulations, Ms. Fray."

My mom smiles. She's decided to keep her last name, which is awesome, but I feel her almost wanting to correct Isabelle. I look back at my mom. "You do look gorgeous," I tell her. "That dress looks even more amazing than it did when you tried it on."

She looks at herself in the mirror. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Amatis smiles at her. "And so are you, honey. Oh," she says. "I'm so happy for you and Luke."

The two of them hug, but my mom steps away quickly. "Don't make me cry, Amatis."

"Of course not." Amatis smiles. "It starts in five minutes, Jo."

"I know."

"Everything will be okay."

"I know."

"He's a lucky man, my brother."

"I'm lucky," Mom says. "He's just…" She trails off. I feel like I shouldn't be here for this. "He's amazing."

"And so are you. You two are perfect," Amatis tells her.

"I just can't believe it, you know?"

"What?"

"That I ended up with a guy like him."

Amatis laughs. "Well, my brother's far from perfect, Jocelyn, and so are you. But you push each other to be better," she reminds her, "and that's what makes you such a strong couple. You two are gonna be incredibly successful. But," she says, "I will leave all of this for my speech. Come on."

We all go to get in position for the wedding. I've never actually _been _to a wedding before, so it's kind of confusing, but, when the time comes, I manage to walk down the aisle without tripping or messing up. I pretty much wanna fall asleep throughout the whole thing, but I start listening when they start reading their vows. Luke starts.

He clears his throat. "In all of my life, Jocelyn, I never thought I would be lucky enough to find a woman like you. I don't even know how to start telling you all of the things that I love about you. You are so remarkably strong. You have raised two amazing, successful children, and you have built a career by yourself, and you still managed to make time for me. And I am so glad that I was brought into your life." He smiles. "You inspire me every day. You make me want to do everything with more passion and drive than usual. You make me want to work so that I can come home and see you. You have shaped my life in more ways than one, and I can't thank you enough for everything that you have done for me. I promise to love you every single day of my life. I promise to do anything to make you happy and make your life easier. I am so in love with you, Jocelyn, and I will always be."

Oh, wow. Oh damn. Okay.

When they call my mom to read the vows, she's already teary-eyed from his, so there's that. "Luke, you came into my life and you gave it color. I wasn't in the best place when I first began seeing you, but you are everything I need. You helped me see all of the beautiful things in my life, and you stuck with me through good and bad, even when the bad got _especially _bad. You are the only person I want to wake up to. You're the person I see by my side when all of my dreams come true." She smiles. "I love you so much, and I promise to make you just as happy as you've made me for the rest of our lives."

Oh, damn. You won't cry, Clary. I sneak a glance at the audience. A few people are crying—one of them, of course, being my best friend, who's trying to very subtly wipe the tears from her eyes. Maia's crying, too, and so are a bunch of people, and I look back at Mom and Luke as they slide their rings on each other's fingers and are pronounced husband and wife.

_You will not cry_. Nope. Not today. Not about this. You hate marriage. You're probably just close to your period and deprived of chocolate and in serious need of sleep and stability and _that _is why you feel like you're gonna fuckin' lose it.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, mostly because there is a _lot _to see. The reception is packed and full of people greeting my mom, but I sneak a few hugs and dance with her and Luke and Simon and Isabelle and Maia, and my feet hurt by the time I manage to sit down. My heart is heavy the whole time. I've been avoiding anything related to romance for a while, and seeing my mom and stepdad say their vows did not help my current situation.

I sneak into the bathroom by the time I absolutely cannot take it anymore, taking off my shoes halfway there, because, _fuck_, my feet hurt. I put them back on before entering the bathroom and lock myself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet and placing my head in my hands.

It's just so _overwhelming_. You know, on the one hand, I'm super happy for my mom and Luke. I know that the two of them have not had easy lives, and it's great that they found each other, because now they can be happy. They can live good lives and they don't have to be alone and blah, blah, blah. As happy as I feel for them, I can't help but be a little angry, because _this _is the woman whose stupid decision and crappy parenting caused me to feel the way I do today. Right here. Because if the whole thing with her making me stop talking to Jace hadn't happened back then, then he and I could be on good terms now, and I wouldn't be feeling like someone punched me straight in the chest and knocked the air out of my lungs.

I try to breathe, but it kind of hurts. _God_. I hate it when sadness is physical too, when you can actually _feel _your chest burning because of the rage and sadness stirring inside of you. I kind of feel like this is the worst a person can feel like, like the lowest of lows is feeling physical pain because of feelings. I hate it. This is supposed to be a good day, but it isn't. It's not a happy day, and I'm bitter, and will I always be this bitter? Will I always look at the things my mom accomplishes or the happiness she has and think, _Oh my God, she doesn't deserve that, because I deserve that_. She has had her shitty moments too, so I'd like to think that she deserves this, but these are supposed to be the happiest, easiest moments of my life—my youth! Being a teenager! But all I feel is a crushing, overwhelming sadness, and so much bitterness, and it worries me, and it scares me, because will I feel like this forever? Will I always feel like this?

It sucks.

But I go back out there, of course. I take a deep breath, and it still hurts, but I go back out there, taking off my shoes once I'm outside, and sit with my friends. I watch people dancing and laughing and just sitting with each other and smiling and probably thinking about their loved ones or whatever, and I feel kind of…disconnected. I smile at my friends, of course, because they're the closest things to a relationship in my life. I think that they notice something is off, but they don't bring it up, which makes me incredibly happy.

Mom and Luke stop by a few times, and we congratulate them every time, and I get up to take pictures. We take a _lot _of pictures. I hate pictures. By the end of the night—the _end _of it, when I get to get home and take off these uncomfortable, feet-killing heels and dress, I tell my mom that I'm not going to school tomorrow and fall into bed. Despite my insane exhaustion, I don't fall asleep for a while. After my friends all text me that they've gotten home safely, I lie there for a second, enjoying the way the cold, soft sheets feel against my exhausted self. I think about everything that happened today.

I did it. I made it to the very end of the day.

And now I'm gonna pass out.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	27. Sad Beautiful Tragic

_Hii, guys! Today has been hectic (I've been up since 8am, went to my friend's university to help her deal with an issue that did not get resolved due to the administration's incompetence, then went to watch Trainwreck, which I **highly **recommend, seeing as I'm now in love with Bill Hader, and then came home and talked about college applications to a bunch of freaked-out juniors, and here I am now), but I'm so happy that I can update (even if I'm barely coherent/running on three hours of sleep). This chapter is unbeta'd, so any/all mistakes are mine. Thanks to IWriteNaked for being dabomb always, and thanks to her + DeathCabForMari for freaking out when I talked about boys, because that made my entire life. Thanks to spikeyhairgood for being super lovely always and for supporting me and listening to me rant and for understanding my frustration regarding Jess. :( And, of course, thanks to LuckyAsLockhart and clarissadele for being totally awesome and great people to talk to. I love allll of you. _

_Also, to the guest that asked about "Kathleen" by Catfish and the Bottlemen: I hadn't heard it before, but I checked it out when I saw the review, and it's AWESOME. I love it. Thank you so much for bringing it to my attention!  
_

_I hope you guys like this chapter_

* * *

_Long handwritten note deep in your pocket_  
_Words, how little they mean when you're a little too late_  
_I stood right by the tracks, your face in a locket_  
_Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait_

_We had a beautiful magic love there_  
_What a sad beautiful tragic love affair_

_In dreams I meet you in warm conversation_  
_We both wake in lonely beds in different cities_  
_And time is taking its sweet time erasing you_  
_And you've got your demons, and, darling, they all look like me_

_..._

_Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting_  
_Silence, this train runs off its tracks_  
_Kiss me, try to fix it, could you just try to listen?_  
_Hang up, give up, for the life of us we can't get back_

_A beautiful magic love there_  
_What a sad beautiful tragic, beautiful tragic, beautiful_

_What we had – a beautiful magic love there_  
_What a sad beautiful tragic love affair_

"Sad Beautiful Tragic" by Taylor Swift

* * *

I balance my laptop on my lap and bite my nails while I wait an eternity for the page to load. I look up and see my best friends hold their breath as the very same page loads for them.

SAT scores came out today. Technically, they've been up since early in the morning, but we promised that we'd wait until we were all together to open the page and everything. I'm really scared. Like, really, _very _scared. Oh my God.

"YES!"

We all turn out heads towards Simon, who's grinning. "2070."

We all congratulate him and reach out to give him a half-assed hug. Our computers block us, but still. My heart is beating insanely fast. I mean, this one test will help determine my future.

Which is, of course, insanely terrifying.

"Crap," Maia mutters. "1640."

"It's not a bad score," I comfort her, though I know I'm terrified of getting the same. But Maia has better grades than I do, so she'll be fine either way.

I, on the other hand, am relying heavily on this test.

The page loads for me, and I add up the numbers in my calculator. "1860," I tell my friends. My heart plummets; it's not a bad score, but I was praying to the same God I don't believe in that I'd get a better score.

"1920," Isabelle says. "I'm not taking _that _again."

Honestly, I wanna take it again. I really do. But I know that I'll have to study _harder _for it, so I just shrug and say, "Me neither."

"Well, I will," Maia says. "This sucks."

"We'll help you," Simon assures her.

"You know what?" I turn to her. "I'll take it again too."

"Thanks, Clary."

I mean, sure, it costs money, but boosting my score wouldn't hurt. And this is what friends are for, right? "No problem."

"I'm so glad we took today off," Isabelle says, falling back on her bed. "I don't think I could've done this at school."

"Me neither," I say. "But, oh my God, we need to nap. We deserve it."

"Yup," Simon says.

Maia and I walk over to the guest room, which also has a big bed, because we know that the two of them are gonna make out before, you know, actually going to bed. So the two of us lie down in bed, settling down under the covers.

"Hey, Clary?"

"Yeah?"

Maia turns to me. "I know that you've had a strict No Jace policy over the past couple of weeks, but why? I mean, it's not like you've liked to talk about him before, but something happened, right?"

I bite my lip. I know that keeping it in isn't healthy, but I don't wanna tell people about this. It's so humiliating and hurtful that he just thinks that about me—that he sees me as a person who has broken that relationship so much that there isn't a point in fixing it. The thought makes me want to cry, which is exactly why I've had a strict No Jace policy since the night I spent at his house.

But.

I do need to talk about this with someone before I go off like a bomb. So I nod. "Yeah. Something happened."

"What is it?" she asks.

I take a deep, shaky breath. "He doesn't wanna talk about us. Ever."

She frowns. "Why?"

"Because he—" I take a breath to steady myself. "Because he thinks it's not worth it. He thinks I'm gonna screw it all up again, and that there will never be anything between us."

"Oh." Her eyes widen. "Oh, Clary, I'm sorry."

I shrug. "It just seems so impossible, you know? How could he not want to try? How is he okay just _being _there and not giving this what it deserves? I mean, I've spent three years of my life wondering what would've happened if I could've just _talked _to him, and now he tells me that I won't ever get the chance." My lower lip quivers, and I suck in a breath. "It just kind of sucks."

"Look, Clary," she tells me, "if he really feels this way, then he's an absolute idiot, and you need to move on."

"I know," I say. "But I just—I know that the whole thing affected him, you know? If it hadn't, then he'd have no problem just talking things out or _trying_. I just wish I could fix it." I wish I could fix _him_.

She shakes her head. "You can't just _fix _people," she says, seeing right through my wording. "I know that it's tempting to just go over there and explain yourself and apologize a million times, but he's not gonna _get _any of it until he realizes that he's being a huge pain in the ass. Until he actually _wants _to hear what happened, then talking to him is just gonna be a waste of time and energy."

She makes sense. Of course she makes sense. I nod, but my heart is shattered, the pieces stabbing my chest in different places, making it hard to breathe.

Because it's just.

So.

Dumb.

It's so dumb. I wasted years of my life on a guy who can't even give me ten minutes of his life so we can talk shit out. And, you know, it's fine if we don't end up together—that's pretty much the biggest lie ever, but whatever—just as long as I can actually _explain _myself to him. I just want to tell him how I felt one last time, you know? I wanna tell him that the fact that my mom was more of a raging bitch then doesn't mean that she's the same _now_, and that, even if she was, I would ignore every single thing that she said to me about him, because I have never loved anyone as much as I love him.

At least I thought I loved him.

But I'm not feeling love right now. I feel frustrated and heartbroken and a lot like punching him in the face. That's how I feel.

And, unless that's what love is, I'm definitely screwed.

* * *

"That's amazing!" Sebastian exclaims, his eyes glistening. "Seriously, you kicked ass."

My cheeks redden. I know that I didn't _actually _kick ass at the SAT, but he always has this way of making me feel like all of my accomplishments are awesome. My friends do too, but it's different with the two of us. I don't know why, but it is.

"I so did not. And, besides, I'm taking it again."

He frowns. "Why?"

"Because my grades suck," I state simply. "And because I don't want Maia to have to take it alone."

"You're a good friend," he says. "I mean, I wouldn't do it for anyone else. Except maybe you."

"You spoil me, Verlac."

He grins. "It's what I'm here for."

The two of us walk into the Algebra II classroom. We settle into our usual seats; he sits in front of me and turns around almost immediately. I move so that I'm closer to him.

"So…" I trail off. "How have you been?"

He shrugs. It's been a month since his mom died, so the wound is as fresh as ever, but he seems to be doing okay. "I'm still staying with Jace most days, except when my dad goes on work trips. There's been two of them so far." I frown, but he continues. "Jace has been a huge help. And you too. Honestly, you two are just…" He shakes his head. "Thank you."

I smile. "Always. Listen," I tell him, "my parents are going out of town for the weekend, so you're free to stay over from today until Sunday morning."

His eyes light up. "Really?"

"Mhmm. They rarely ever go out of town, so this is good."

"I'll be there," he says.

The bell rings, indicating the beginning of class, but all I can think about is how much I despise math, how much I want to be elsewhere.

I doodle on the pages where there's free space. The drawings stand out; the rest of the pages' contents are equations and definitions and mathematical terminology and, ugh, _graphs_. I hate it. When the bell rings, I can't get out fast enough.

In Psychology, I sit at my usual spot and doodle. I do pay attention, because we have a test next week and an essay due the day before, so I make sure to take notes and all. I keep getting distracted, though.

Sebastian is coming over later today. I should probably get some groceries or something. Did Mom and Luke leave me some money? I should probably ask. God, I'm tired. I have a slight headache, and thinking about how messy my room is and how much trouble I'll get into if Jocelyn and Luke find out about this is _not _helping. And, besides, I also have Jace in the back of my mind, as I always do, and the whole thing is stressful enough to make me drown out the sound of my teacher's voice. I want to sleep. I doodle to stay awake, but I don't listen or take notes. I can just ask someone else for them later.

When the bell rings, I make my way outside. One of the girls, Tessa, is really nice, so I ask to borrow her notes, and she says okay, and I just take pictures of them so I can write them in my notebook. I thank her infinitely before walking over to my locker, where Sebastian is waiting for me with a smile on his face.

"We need to go over to Jace's," is the first thing he says. "Most of my crap is there. I can't go home."

I groan. "Can't you just borrow some of Jon's crap? Or go to your house?"

He shakes his head vehemently, his eyes wide. "No way. You know I don't like Jon. And my keys are at Jace's place, so there's really no point."

"It's not like he's _there_," I say, referring to Jon.

"I won't do it."

"You're such a kid." I sigh, reminding myself that _he's _the one I should be taking care of—not myself. "Fine. _Fine_."

"Great. He's meeting us at the subway stop in ten."

I roll my eyes and open my locker. My friends come by while I'm changing books, and I let them know my plans. They nod and tell me that they're going to Java Jones, which sounds heavenly, but I can't back out of my plans now.

"We would _so _go if we didn't have to go to Jace's," I say, making a face. "But I'll text you guys."

"Sure. Wait, what?"

I walk away from Isabelle's questioning gaze and send her a text as Seb and I walk over to the subway station. _It's just to get Seb's clothes_, I explain.

Jace is waiting for us outside the station. It's an unnaturally windy day, which makes my hair fly all over the place and my cheeks feel weird, but it's definitely him. I pull my hair up into a bun and zip my coat all the way up. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat and leads us down the too-familiar stairs of the station.

We ride the train in silence. I'm sitting down, but the two of them are standing up. They're both facing me, and I always hate it when this happens, because I feel like I'm being scrutinized. I look down at my phone, which rests between my two hands, and then back up at them. Music is playing from my phone, and I close my eyes. I'm so tired. Fuck.

We get out and walk a few blocks, and then we're there. At Jace's house. Where he told me that he'd never wanna talk about us again. Awesome. Super. This is great. I step inside, willing myself to stay calm. Because, I mean, seriously. I can do this. Like, yeah, okay, my heart is hammering against my ribcage, and all of me feels like a bomb about to detonate, but still.

I wait in the living room while Sebastian gets his stuff from the guest room. Jace is moving around in the kitchen, but I don't try to talk to him. I don't try to do anything with him.

Because here's the thing: I want to be civil with him. I do. Even if he doesn't want to be the same with me, that's what I want. I want to be the better person. I don't think that hiding behind my feelings is gonna make them go away—not really. I've been doing that for a long time, so I know just how futile efforts like that are.

But.

Looking at him is like looking at the sun. You want to do it. It's the kind of thing you do with one eye open and the other closed, always cautious, careful not to get too caught up in it, because it will hurt. It will always hurt. But, even though I know that, I sneak peeks at him anyway.

And I hate myself for it.

Sebastian _finally _emerges from the room. He says goodbye to Jace, and I don't say anything. I just follow him outside, into the cold New York streets, and we walk all the way back to the subway station.

"Did you bring everything?" I ask.

He nods. "Yup."

"Really? Toothbrush? Deodorant?"

"Yeah, _Mom_."

I roll my eyes. "Just making sure."

"I'm responsible."

I snort. "Yeah, okay."

"I am!"

"Sure you are."

He glares at me. "You suck."

I shake my head. "Come on." I tug on his sleeve. "The train's almost here."

He stands up. Once the subway lurches to a stop, we make our way inside. It's kind of full, actually, but I manage to get a pole to help me stand. Thank _God_ it's near the door.

I wait for what seems like an eternity. Sebastian is standing right by me, and I'm very aware of his presence. I wonder if he wants to talk about this. I wonder if he's just trying to forget. It's been a month; I don't know what to do about this.

I remind him of the stop, and, by the time we get out, I'm even more exhausted than usual. My heart, which had been going crazy at Jace's and then afterwards, has slowed down to its usual, steady beat. I no longer feel like I'll have a heart attack soon, which is a definite improvement from my previous state.

We walk all the way to my apartment building. Being tired makes me feel cold, and I open up the door with shaky hands. Once we're finally inside my apartment, I collapse on the couch, groaning as the cushions make my back feel lighter. I let out a sigh of relief and close my eyes.

"You okay?"

I nod. "Just exhausted."

"Wanna sleep?"

I shake my head. "No, no, it's fine. Let's talk." I pat the empty space beside him. "How are you? How are things?"

He shrugs. "Crappy, but you and Jace—you've both helped out so much." He shakes his head. "I don't know what I'd do without you two."

I wrap an arm around him and rest my head on his shoulder. "Anytime." After a second, I ask, "Hey, do you want anything to drink?"

He nods. "Water would be great."

"Alright."

"I'll come with you."

We walk to the kitchen, and I take out two glasses and fill them up with ice. I decide to drink water, too; I might as well be healthy. I do have a few Coca-Cola bottles in my bedroom, which I'm hiding from my mother, but water's good too. I hand him his glass and rest my body against the counter.

Seb clears his throat. "What happened between you and Jace the morning after my mom died?"

I should've known he'd bring it up, but, for some reason, the question still comes as a shock to me. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"I need to know," he says, running a hand through his hair. "You two are my friends, and I need to know."

"Why?" I ask, exasperated.

"Well," he tells me, calmly as ever, "I kind of expected you two to get together after we ended things, you know? But it's been half a year, and you two aren't even really speaking, and I wanna know why it took my mom dying and me getting drunk off my ass to get you to interact."

"Because!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "Because he loathes me, okay? He hates me so much, Sebastian, and I can't even look at him without being reminded of how we'll never be together, even though I still—" I stop myself, but we both know what I was gonna say.

_Even though I still love him._

"Can I ask why?"

"Why what?" I ask, leading us to my room.

"Why you still love him." And, after a beat, he says, "And not me."

I whirl around to face him. "What?"

He holds his hands up. One of them has the glass of water I poured for him. "I'm not saying this because I have feelings for you, okay? I swear. It's just that we were together for longer, and, as far as I know, I've been way better to you, and I just wanted to know."

Even though he's not lying, his words feel like a punch to the heart. "I don't know," I whisper, closing the door to my room before sitting down on my bed. "I guess I just—I don't know. All I know is that it hurts to see him around, and that I still think about us, and that he could..." _He could fix me_, I want to say, but I don't. "I don't know."

"He could what?"

My actual reason sounds stupid, so I just shrug and say, "Make me happy."

"A ton of people can make you happy." He sits down on my desk chair. "So why him? I mean, you're clearly unhappy now," he points out.

I shake my head. "I honestly don't know."

We stay silent for a while. "Just talk to me, Fray."

And, because I feel ready to tell him, I nod. "He said he doesn't want to talk about us. Like, ever."

"He said that?"

I nod again. "Yeah. It's just so frustrating, you know? All I want is to explain myself to him, and he won't have it."

"He doesn't—" Sebastian shakes his head. "Never mind."

"Tell me," I say.

He shakes his head. "He doesn't know what he's missing out on. Honestly, Clary, it's his loss."

I don't believe him, but I don't try to argue with him. Instead, I just ask, "So, what do you wanna do?"

"Honestly? I just wanna watch TV. This week sucked."

"_Parks and Rec_?"

He grins. "You read my mind."

"Go make some kettle corn," I tell him. "You know where it is."

"So bossy. Want more water?"

"Bring me a cup with ice. I have some soda stashed under my bed."

"Sneaky. Can I get in on that?"

I nod. "Gooo, go. I'll load the show."

I open up my laptop and go on the Netflix website. We're gonna be re-watching episodes, as we usually do, so I pick season three and load the first episode. Sebastian's back soon after, and the smell of kettle corn makes my heart melt. I set the laptop in between us and take the bowl of popcorn. I get two cans of soda from under my bed and hand one to him. Once we play the show, I notice that Seb becomes more relaxed. He eats kettle corn and watches _Parks and Rec _absentmindedly. I wonder if he does stuff like this at Jace's.

I shake off those thoughts and focus on the show and Sebastian. My mom calls at around seven, and I answer, telling her everything is just fine. She tells me to lock everything and to be safe and to try to stay home this weekend, and to be smart about it (aka: don't throw any parties, and don't invite boys over). She tells me she's coming back at noon on Sunday, and then we say our goodbyes.

"I'll be out by ten, then," Sebastian tells me.

"Sounds good."

We keep watching the show. We don't really have that much in common, so this is what we usually do when we hang out—along with venting to each other, of course.

We laugh along to the jokes and make three bags of kettle corn before deciding to stop. It's eleven o'clock.

"God, we've gotta shower." I groan. "Let me get you a towel."

"I'll get my stuff."

I walk out to the closet, get a towel, and make my way back into my room. I hand it to him wordlessly. It's just a plain, mint green towel, and he takes it and leaves to the bathroom. He already knows where it is. I get my stuff ready and shower in my mom and Luke's bathroom. By the time midnight comes around, Seb and I are back in bed.

"I can sleep on the couch," he tells me.

I shake my head. "Don't be silly. Sleep in Jon's room."

He groans. "Fiiiiiine."

"That was easier than I expected."

"Well, I'm very grateful that you're doing this. And too tired to argue."

I smile. "Sounds about right."

I walk with him to my older brother's room. I make sure everything's in order (I turn on the AC and all) before saying goodnight and going back to mine. Despite my exhaustion, I have to watch another episode of _Parks and Rec_ to be able to go to sleep.

* * *

Sebastian has practice on Saturday morning, so he wakes up early. Like, at seven in the morning. I wake up, too, because he comes into my room and asks me if I want breakfast—and if he could make any for himself in the first place.

I get up, groggy, my body groaning. My mind is screaming at me to go back to bed, but I stay with Sebastian as he makes himself breakfast. Once he's fed and ready to go, I lead him out and tell him to text me when it's done. And, once he's gone, I fall back asleep.

I wake up again at noon. Crap. Thankfully, Sebastian went to eat with his friends. An hour ago, he sent me a text asking what I wanted. Crap. Again. I call him, still half asleep.

"Is it too late for me to order food?"

"Yeah. I'm already almost in front of your building. I brought you something, though."

"You're an angel. I'll go open the door for you."

I hang up and do as I said. He comes through the building's doors a few seconds later, and then we walk to the second floor, where my apartment is. I open it back up and lead him inside.

"Why didn't you answer, anyway?"

"I may or may not have fallen back asleep," I reply.

"Yeah, you do love sleep."

"I really do." My eyes land on the plastic bag he's holding. "What'd you bring me?"

"Kung pao chicken and lo mein."

I make a face at the lo mein. "I'll eat the chicken."

He widens his eyes. "You don't like lo mein?"

I shrug. "I've never tried it. We always just order the fried rice."

"You should try it."

I make a face. "I'm fine with the chicken. Save it for your dinner." I nod in the direction of the lo mein and grab the chicken. I take a fork from my utensils drawer and sit cross-legged on the couch. Seb follows suit. "How was practice?"

He shrugs. "It was...practice."

"Thank you for that elaborate response, Mr. Verlac."

"We kicked a ball around."

"You think so highly of yourself," I joke. "Seriously, though."

"That's all we did."

I scrunch up my nose. "Soccer's so boring."

"It is so not."

"How is kicking a ball around entertaining?"

"You'd be surprised," he says.

"Well, it sounds boring," I mutter.

"What do you wanna do?"

I sigh. "I have to outline my Psych paper and study for the test, and then I have two quizzes to study for, and I also have homework for almost every class."

"Fun," he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I have the two quizzes and most of the homework with you."

"Okay. You go shower, and I'll make us some snacks and get everything ready."

"You're the best," he says. "I'll be out in a bit."

I walk into my room with a smile on my face and take my backpack out into the living room. Then, I go into the kitchen, and I make us two bags of kettle corn. I get some baby carrots and take out the ranch dressing. I'm almost done making us iced tea when my phone begins to vibrate on the counter, making a ridiculously loud sound.

"Hello?"

It's my mom. She asks a billion questions about my wellbeing and the house and safety and, _Clarissa Adele Fray_, do you have any people over? I say no to the last question and continue reassuring her that everything is fine.

I say bye to her just before Sebastian emerges from the bathroom. I finish our iced teas and take everything to the coffee table in the living room.

"This looks good," he says.

Neither of us mentions the fact that we just ate. The two of us require study food; if we don't have it, we can't study. It's one of the main reasons I loved studying with him while we were together.

By the time we finish studying for our APUSH and Algebra quizzes (and doing the homework for both classes, too), half the food is gone. We keep going. We have a Spanish worksheet and I have an AP Lit essay to outline and there's Physics homework. I feel like killing myself. Repeatedly. Sebastian looks like he's thinking the same thing, but we just sit there and eat and study until we finish homework.

We take a break at around five. I still have to do all of my Psychology crap, but still. We watch three episodes of Parks and Rec before he decides to take a nap. While he sleeps, I outline my Psych paper and study for the test. I take a shower, too, and put on new, clean pajamas.

When I get back from my shower, he's lying down on my bed, texting. He looks up when he feels me come in.

"Hi," I tell him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good. I can't believe I slept for three hours."

I nod. "I outlined my paper—mostly, anyway—and studied for my test. And showered."

He groans. "I just feel like going back to bed. And eating. But I'm too tired to eat."

"So sleep," I tell him. It's only nine o'clock, but he looks exhausted.

"I can't even stand up."

"I'll help. Come on." I extend my hand to him.

He shakes his head. "Too tired."

"Come onnnn, Seb."

He sighs dramatically. "_Fine_, Clary. I will do this one thing for you."

I roll my eyes. "I feel _so _lucky to be graced with this favor of yours, the great Sebastian Verlac. Now let's take you to the room so you can sleep at the same time as grandparents around the globe."

I help him get to Jon's room and all. I turn on the AC for him and say goodnight, turning off the light as I'm on my way out.

Back in my room, I attempt to finish the easy leftover homework while listening to music. I keep replaying Taylor Swift's _1989 _album, because it's my favorite, and I listen to that while I do this crap. God. I hate school. And homework. Ugh. I don't even learn from it.

By the time nine thirty comes around, I decide to go to bed. I'm gonna need my twelve hours, and I need to get Seb out of here in the morning, as well as clean up all evidence of his coming over.

I should be awake until two in the morning, probably out with my friends or whatever. I mean, it's my junior year! I should be out partying! (Note: I don't like parties.) I should be socializing and doing something other than going to bed before ten o'clock on a Saturday.

But I do it anyway. I lie down, and my eyelids feel heavy. So does my entire body, actually. I take deep breaths and try not to think about the thoughts that creep up on me at night, like my mother and Jace and Sebastian and what is and what could have been. Instead, I keep trying to come up with new images—specifically about what _is_—until something, _anything_, lulls me to sleep.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! X_


	28. On Your Own

_Hiiiii, guys. It's so ironic that it's MS Monday. Sooooo ironic. I feel like I should clarify this before anything else: the real-life version of MS suuuuucks, and it ended badly, and did I say it sucks? Because it does. After, like, **years **of avoiding the guy MS is based on, I ran into him today at the mall. We ignored each other and it was literally the most stressful thing ever. Anyway, I died, and it was just funny that it happened to be on a Monday. Life's a lil bitch. _

_Thanks to my homeboy IWriteNaked for her fabulous comments and her gr9 friendship, and to spikeyhairgood (for listening to me talk about the same person over and over; you're the real MVP), DeathCabForMari (you are fab fab fab and yes), LuckyAsLockhart (#jackass), and clarissadele (because you're gr9 and we feel each other and yes). You guys are the best._

_To the "Kathleen"/musical guest: I don't mind if you give me song suggestions! I love checking out new music all the time 24/7, so it would be nice! Also, I'm glad you liked the chapter. :) _

* * *

_And this time you cross the line leaving me in the dark  
__But I will light the way without you (without you)  
__And this time I realize you could have had my heart  
__But I'm not going down without you  
__You were putting on a show, putting on a show  
__So I'd rather be alone, rather be alone_

_Take another step and I'll lose it  
__Sick of hearing all your excuses  
__Breaking down your walls, breaking down your walls  
__I'm not waiting for your call, waiting for your call  
__Say another word and I'll lose it  
__Everything you do is so useless  
__Before I have to go, before I have to go  
__I just wanted you to know, wanted you to know  
__You're on your own_

"On Your Own" by We Are The In Crowd

* * *

"We're on a break," she says, pushing past me and making her way into my bedroom. I close the door, fumbling with the lock momentarily, and run to my room, where Isabelle has, of course, dramatically plopped on my bed.

After I process her words, my mind immediately goes to _Friends_. But then I realize the most important thing, which is that, hey, _she said those words_. "What?"

"Simon and I are on a break."

"Yeah," I tell her. "I got that. Care to elaborate?"

She lifts her head to look at me. "Well, you know how he left for Rochester yesterday, right?" After I nod, she continues. "Right. Well, I started thinking."

"And God forbid _that _happens," I say, causing her to glare at me.

"_Anyway_," she says pointedly, "I started to realize that, you know, our future is fast approaching, you know? Like, college apps are due in the fall, and we may not be together next year." She sighs. "And he's gonna be away for a while, so I asked him if we could take a break. You know, see other people."

"Wait. _You _suggested the break?" She nods, and I make a confused face, like, _what the fuck, dude_. "Then why did you come in all upset?"

"Because I don't know if I even _want _to see other people. I mean, I'm in love with Simon! It's just that, well, he's the only guy I've ever been with, and I kind of wanted to see what it'd be like with someone else."

I roll my eyes at her. "Is my life seriously not enough proof of how lucky you are?"

She rolls her eyes right back at me and scoffs. "Yeah, that super amazing ex of yours is definitely a terrible person, Clary."

"It's not that," I say quickly, shaking my head. "It's not. It's just that…why would you ever go chasing for something like that? All I want is what you have with Simon. That's _why _my love life is so painfully pathetic. You already have what the rest of us spend forever looking for."

Her eyes widen. "Oh my God, I've fucked up. What if he starts seeing someone? What if—"

"Look," I tell her. "If it means that much to you to know, then tell him. Ask if it's okay to just try it out once. It's just, like, a super weird situation, you know? But I'm sure he'll get it."

She nods for a while, the movement gaining strength as the seconds pass by. "Yeah. _Yeah_. I mean, this is _Simon_. No one gets me like he does. Right?"

I nod. "Right."

"So we'll stay on a break until July," she says, and she's never sounded so happy about there being something potentially wrong with her relationship. "Awesome. Thanks, Fray."

"You're welcome, Lightwood."

"What's new with you?" she asks.

I shrug. "Nothing. Really, nothing. My life's as dull as ever."

"No art classes this summer?"

"I haven't found anything we can afford. Luke and Mom are in saving mode for college." I sigh. "It's so unfair."

"Get a job?"

"Because I haven't tried _that_."

"Right. Sorry."

I shrug again. "I'm used to it."

I lied. I'm not really that used to not affording things. Then again, I'm not used to asking for things in the first place. Mom's always given me everything I have—I asked for my phone, yeah, but for my birthday, and same thing with my laptop. I've never really been the kind of person that just shamelessly _asks _for things. I know how things work in the house. I know we can't really spend and spend and spend until we drown on new things. But I really wanted this.

"Maybe I can work out a deal with Luke and Mom," I say. "I work at the bookstore and at the gallery, and I get classes."

"That wouldn't be bad," she tells me. "Good thinking."

"Yeah."

"Think you could score me a job?"

"Isabelle Lightwood? A _job_?"

She smacks my shoulder. "What? Just because we've got money doesn't mean I can't work."

"You're one of the laziest people I've ever met. _Ever_."

"I am so not lazy! I work out and wake up early—at least before noon, unlike _some people_."

I sigh. "As much as I'd love to, I don't think we can afford to hire anyone new."

"Hmm. I could be a lifeguard, right? Like, at a community pool or something."

"You could be a lifeguard," I agree, and we drop the whole job talk.

It's become pretty clear to me now that Isabelle just wants to keep busy. It makes sense, what with the whole taking a break from Simon thing and all. Still. I know she's gonna wanna hook up with someone. I'll need to call Sebastian; he probably knows some half-decent guys who don't go to our school.

The two of us decide to just look at clothes online for a while, with _Friends_, of course, playing in the background. Isabelle makes a comment about how she hopes Simon doesn't react the way Rachel did, and then we keep doing our thing. She leaves at around three, and then I have pretty much nothing to do for a while, so I just stay in bed and watch _Friends_ until I hear someone come home.

I walk outside when I hear keys jiggling to find my mother coming in. She's carrying groceries, and I watch as she sets them down on the counter. "Thanks for the help," she says sarcastically.

"Sorry," I reply.

"Did you clean your room?"

I frown. "No."

"Clary, I very specifically asked you to clean your room, because it's Father's Day tomorrow, and Luke's family is coming over."

"Then it'll be clean by tomorrow," I say matter-of-factly. "You never told me to clean it."

"Go clean it. _Now_. And of _course _I told you, Clarissa. Why wouldn't I tell you? Planning this get-together is incredibly stressful, so I need everything to go well tomorrow. It's our first Father's Day as a married couple."

"Luke isn't even a dad anyway, so why are we doing this?"

"He's _your _father. Don't get me started on this."

"He's not my father!" I throw my hands in the air and let them fall to my sides. "I love Luke, but he's not my father, and you keep stressing yourself out by offering to have people over, so don't pin this on me, okay? And you _never _asked me to clean my room."

"Luke is a better father than your biological one, and he deserves to have his family all together. He does enough for us as it is, so how _dare _you—"

"How dare I what?!"

"How dare you want to mess that up?"

"I don't! You never told me to clean my room, Jocelyn!"

"Don't call me Jocelyn," she warns me. "I'm your mother, not some stranger."

"Well, you might as well be."

"Oh, please." She scoffs. "You don't know what you're saying half the time. Like a stranger would put up with you. Like a stranger would take care of you when you're sick and put up with your stupidity and half-assed attempts at rebellion. Like a stranger would give you nice clothes and a good phone and a place to sleep in."

"At least they wouldn't throw anything back in my face," I tell her. "Like you do every time."

"You are so ungrateful!" She shakes her head. "I don't know how you're ever gonna learn. When I was growing up—"

"I don't give a shit!" I yell. I don't mean to, but it slips out of me, because oh my _God, _I can't handle her. I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't. If she keeps using this crappy excuse forever, I might just kill myself. She makes a move to slap me for saying _shit_ and for yelling, but I move. "I don't care. I really don't. I don't care that you suffered or that your life _sucked_, because I still hate that you make me feel guilty for the stupidest shit."

"Clarissa! If you don't stop cursing, I swear—"

"What? What could you _possibly _do that you haven't already done?"

"Well, it's shut you up every other time, hasn't it?"

"Maybe it won't this time. I'm sick and tired of you trying to shut me up."

"Watch your mouth," she warns.

"Not a chance," I reply, knowing I'm gonna hate myself for this in a few seconds.

Her hand comes in contact with my cheek at about the same time I start cursing at myself. It's a hard slap, definitely, but I grab her wrist and push her back.

"It's not gonna work," I tell her. How did we even _get _here? Over a _room_? "You keep stressing me out and thinking that hitting me is gonna just make me stop being angry about it. Well, it's not."

"You just _love _picking fights, don't you?" She shakes her head at me. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"Trust me, I feel the same way."

"Really? What have I ever done to you? You know, other than put up with your constant fighting, laziness, and apathy towards me?"

"Well, considering you're responsible for two of those things, I'd say you…well, you caused them." I feel my heart pounding, and my mind is telling me that this isn't a good idea, but I keep going. "And, by the way, it's not apathy. It's hatred."

Of course, this earns me another slap in the face. I take it, though, and then I glare at her, and I've never ever hated someone as much as I hate her. She keeps going at it, though—slapping me and slapping me and slapping me. I try to push her away and hit her back, and then she keeps going, and then I decide to leave. Fuck it. I push her away, hard, and run to my room, grab a jacket and my phone, and walk out the front door, not caring that I'm wearing sweatpants and my hair is a mess.

I run out into the eerily empty streets, my feet pounding against the pavement. I don't know where I'm running—and I don't really care, either. All I know is that I can't stop. I don't care that it starts raining after four blocks of running. Or that I'm soaked and freezing. I keep running anyway. I run until my feet are screaming, begging me to slow down, and only then do I realize I'm in Sebastian's neighborhood.

I hesitate. He's my friend, sure, but I'm used to dealing with my Jocelyn crap alone. All by myself. On the other hand, it's pouring, and, as much as I'd love to, I can't keep running. But I can't go back home, either.

So, of course, I run two blocks to my right and enter the supermarket that sits on the corner, as it always has, and I call Sebastian.

"Clary! Hey!"

"Hey," I say. "Are you home?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Open the door for me?" It was meant to be a command, but it ends up coming out like a question.

There's a small pause, and then: "Sure."

I shove my phone into my hoodie's pocket and then throw the hood over my head to cover my hair as I run out of the supermarket and halfway up the block until I'm in front of Sebastian's apartment building. He's already holding the door open for me, so I run inside, my shoes squeaking as they come in contact with the dry tile floors.

"Jesus," he says. "We need to get you a blanket."

"It's not that bad," I tell him, but my teeth clatter, betraying me.

"You," he says, opening the door to his penthouse, "are not fine." He leads me inside the luxurious apartment. "I'm gonna go get a towel." It's colder in here, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. I freeze in place. The cold paralyzes me, reminds me of how reckless and absolutely stupid I've been today.

"Hey, I got the—"

Oh_, no_.

I look up and meet Jace's gaze. He's frowning, as he usually does when I'm around. "What're you—"

Sebastian appears with a towel at this very moment, making Jace lose his train of thought. Seb looks at the two of us, hands me the towel, and then says, "Well, this wasn't _planned _or anything."

"Thanks," I tell him. _For the towel_, I want to say. _Not for the awkward moment_. Instead, I ask, "Is there a sweatshirt I could borrow? A big one?"

He nods and disappears again. Jace's frown has morphed into a glare. Awesome. Super. Totally what I need right now. Yup. _So _thrilled about this, clearly.

"Seriously, Jace," I snap. "Not now."

"I'm sorry," he says, clearly not sorry at all. "Am I interrupting your evening?"

Oh God. Breathe, Clary, breathe. You've got this. You've got—

"Here." Sebastian hands me the sweatshirt. "We need to talk when you come out of the bathroom, okay?"

I nod. I get ready fast, because the warmth of the sweatshirt is most definitely welcome. I take a breath before walking back out. I find the two boys in the living room, sitting on the couch.

I hesitate—I seem to be doing that a lot lately—before taking a seat as far away from them as physically possible. Now that I'm sitting still, I notice that my hands won't stop shaking, and I need to keep distracting myself (mentally, of course) to keep my bottom lip from quivering. God, this is the worst. I shouldn't have come here. I should've just—

"Clary." Sebastian looks concerned. I suppose he should be. I mean, my hair is a mess, and I'm sure all of me is a mess. I sure as hell _feel _like one, anyway.

"What's up?" I ask.

"What happened?" he asks gently.

I take a deep breath. _Don't cry. Do not cry. _Seriously, I need to get it together. I shake my head at him.

"I can't," I say. "I really, really can't."

He walks over to sit beside me and looks at me, searching for some type of answer on my face. When he doesn't find one, he says, "Come on, Clary. I'm worried. Did you—" He hesitates. "Did you run all the way from your house to here?"

I shrug. "So what if I did?"

He sits up. "Jesus! Jace," he says, facing his friend, "bring me a blanket from the closet. I'm getting you some water, Clary." He's facing me now. "Stay here, okay?"

I nod. I'm shaking too hard to even _think _of standing up. I sit there, staring at nothing. And trying not to cry. And I feel myself failing miserably.

"Here you go." Sebastian hands me the water. A few seconds later, I feel him wrapping a blanket around me. "I need you to talk to me," he tries again.

And that's it. That's all it takes for me to burst into tears.

"It's okay," he says, wrapping an arm around me. I want to tell him that no, it's not okay, it's really very far from okay right now—_I'm _very far from okay right now. But I don't say anything. I notice Jace hasn't said a word either, and that the harder I try to pull myself together, the harder I keep falling apart.

Jesus H. Christ, I am a mess.

Sebastian lets me cry on his shoulder for a little while, and I hear Jace moving around in the kitchen. By the time I finally stop crying, he's handing me a mug. It's the nicest thing he's done for me in years, and I take it. Hot chocolate. It's glorious.

"Are you ready to talk?" Seb asks me.

I want to tell him the truth, which is that I'll never be ready to talk about this. Ever. But, instead, what comes out of my mouth is: "I can try."

"Good," he says. "What happened?"

I try to slow down my heartbeat. I take a breath, but it comes out all shaky and not at all like I'm okay. _You can do this_, I tell myself. I at least owe him an explanation.

"It was Jocelyn." I hate saying her name, but it is a lot better than giving her a title she doesn't deserve. "She—" I shake my head. Steady my heart. Bite my bottom lip. But, in the end, all I can manage is: "I can't do this."

"Would it be better for you to write it down?" he asks.

I nod. Sebastian's aunt is a psychologist, so he's picked up a few things here and there. He's learned that letting things fester and eat you up inside is the most unhealthy thing you can do. It's why we had such a good relationship, I think—well, for the most part.

He gives me a pen and paper, and I lock myself in the bathroom and write it all out. Tears stain parts of the paper and make the ink look all splotchy and a little hard to read, but I keep writing anyway.

I make myself look presentable before exiting the bathroom. I hand him the paper. I feel Jace's stare and turn to face him. "You can—I mean, you're already here, and you already know some of this, so you might as well." I turn to Seb. "I'm gonna wait in your room."

He nods. "Okay."

A crazy (and illogical, and unreasonable, and definitely pathetic) part of me is hoping that this'll help Jace understand why I did what I did to him. I mean, he knows part of it, sure, but maybe if he sees that it's still going on just as badly, he'll understand. It's not healthy or mature or anything to want this, I know, but still. I turn back as I'm about to close the door to Seb's bedroom and see the two of them reading together. I shut the door and lie down on the bed, promptly remembering that my hair is damp. Oops. I should put my clothes in the dryer. I should—

The door bursts open, and Sebastian comes in, followed by Jace, who crumples up the piece of paper and throws it in the trash can while Seb sits down beside me. I'm sitting up now, too.

"You can stay for as long as you need to," he tells me.

"Thank you," I tell him. "Really."

"How long has it been this bad?" he asks me.

I shrug. "The last time it was this bad was a year ago. But, I mean, it was worse when I was little."

"I've never—" He takes a breath to steady himself. "I've never actually seriously wanted to hurt a woman, but your mom has proved that there's a first time for everything."

I give him a tired smile. "You're helping out enough."

Jace clears his throat. "Can I talk to Clary alone for a sec?"

I feel as confused as Sebastian feels. He looks at me for approval, and I nod, which leads him to exit the room, leaving me and Jace inside. Alone.

Jace takes a breath. "This doesn't—" He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "It doesn't change things between us—what I'm about to say, that is." After I nod, he continues. "But if I could just—" His fists clench at his sides. "I wish I could make it all go away for you, okay?"

I nod. My heart is beating so fast that I fear I might have a heart attack. Oh my _God_.

There are a million things I wish I could tell him, but they're all lies. I realize that now. All of the things I've thought up in my fake scenarios, the ones I make up in my mind when I need something to play in the back of my mind before sleeping—they're all lies. Every single one of them. Because, really, the only thing I can say is: "Me too. But you can't. No one can."

He nods. "For what it's worth, I think you deserve better."

"Thanks." I smile. "Look, Jace—"

He shakes his head. "This doesn't change anything, remember?"

And then, because I'm fed up, and I'm emotional, and I can't take it anymore, I ask, "But _why_?" And tears start to fill my eyes, and my voice cracks, but I don't tear my gaze from his.

"Because of a lot of things."

"Like?"

"Like I can't! I'm selfish, okay, so I can't, and you deserve someone better," he tells me. "Someone who _can_. Someone who'll just say fuck it and _be _with you. And I'm not that guy. I can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because you can do the same thing again." _He's scared_, I realize. Actually very scared. "And I'm not gonna take that risk."

"So you're just gonna give up because you're scared?" I scoot closer to him until I'm sitting on the corner of the bed, mere inches from where he's standing. "Jace, I was _thirteen_. I didn't—" I shake my head. "Never mind. You don't wanna have anything to do with me? Fine." I point to the door. "Get out." _I'm done trying to change your mind_.

"Gladly," he says, slamming the door shut.

My heart is pounding. It hurts. Everything hurts. But I wait. I wait until Seb comes in and tells me that Jace is gone. And then I cry again.

"What'd he say to you?" Sebastian asks.

"That he wished he could make it better for me. That it didn't change anything between us."

"Why?"

"He said he was too selfish to make this work. Too scared, more like." I scoff. "And he said that I deserve better."

"Maybe you do," he tells me.

"What?"

"I'm not saying me," Sebastian says. "But you deserve someone who doesn't do this to you."

I sigh. I guess he has a point. I don't think so, though. I mean, I think Jace is mostly hurting me because he's scared, so this is kind of like his defense mechanism. I just wish he'd stop seeing me as a threat.

"It's complicated." I bite my lip. "I know that it sounds incredibly ridiculous, but I like that he doesn't pity me, you know? Like, he isn't just gonna drop everything and forgive me just because I'm having a hard time. He's not gonna change his mind. I mean, it's also part of the reason I'm so damn frustrated with him, but it's just so _real_. He isn't full of shit or anything. He's telling it like it is. It's…" I trail off. "Equally frustrating and appealing."

"It's just like you," he tells me. "Both with the frustrating and appealing part, and the actual issue. You two don't let things go."

"I like people who don't let things go," I tell him. "But he also frustrates me because of the very same reason, so I don't know what that makes me, and I don't know what to do."

"Why?"

"Because he's not the guy I remember."

"What do you remember him like?"

"Like the kind of guy who'd miss an entire event with his friends just to be with me. Like the kind of guy who'd get three hours of sleep just because he stayed up talking to me. Like the kind of guy who gave a shit."

He nods. "Well, I mean…" He looks like he's struggling to come up with something. "It's been, what, three years? People change, Clary. I mean, you aren't the same girl you were then."

I know.

But, the way I see it, I changed for the better. I'm stronger—at least I'd like to think I am, anyway. And, yeah, okay, I can be colder too, but it's a small price to pay for my newfound determination, I think.

I can't be sure, though.

One thing I'm sure of is that I'm a better person. Maybe not to other people, but to myself, definitely. And that's what matters most, right? I mean, it sucks to be alone right now, sure, and yeah, I wish I had somebody like Isabelle has Simon, especially in times like this, but I think I'd rather be the Jaceless me I am right now than the past me, the one that had Jace but couldn't fend for herself.

I rest my head against Seb's shoulder. "Can we drink or something?"

"Sure."

He makes us drinks—well, _me_, anyway; he just gets himself a beer. I browse through Netflix until we decide to watch _High School Musical _until we pass out.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	29. Like A Fool

_Hi, guys! I'm so sorry that this update is so ridiculously late. I wanted to update sooner so, so badly, but the page wouldn't load for me, so the lovely spikeyhairgood is doing me a favor in updating MS for you guys while I figure out what the frick frack is wrong with the site (it may have to do with the internet I'm connected to, since it's the university's, but I'm not sure). Anyway, yeah! I've also been really busy, because I moved into my dorm on Sunday and have been running around doing things, so it's been hectic. I'm in a policy meeting as I type this, but I hope you guys are doing okay. Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing, and to my lovely friends, DeathCabForMari, LuckyAsLockhart, and clarissadele for being so great. I don't know what I'd do without all five of you ladies._

_I hope you guys like this chapter!_

* * *

_We take a chance from time to time_

_And put our necks out on the line_

_And you have broken every promise that we made_

_And I have loved you anyway_

_Took a fine time to leave me hangin' out to dry_

_Understand now I'm greivin'_

_So don't you waste my time_

_Cause you have taken_

_All the wind out from my sails_

_And I have loved you just the same_

_We finally find this_

_Then you're gone_

_Been chasin' rainbows all along_

_And you have cursed me_

_When there's no one left to blame_

_And I have loved you just the same_

_And you have broken every single fucking rule_

_And I have loved you like a fool_

"Like A Fool" by Keira Knightly

* * *

This is it.

My last first day of high school.

As usual, my friends and I eat at Java Jones before class. We follow the routine of going to the assembly, getting our schedules, finding out where our lockers are, etc. As I walk to homeroom, I look down at the slightly crumpled piece of paper in my hand.

Homeroom: Mr. Hastings (_again_)

AP European History

AP Spanish

Snack

Environmental Science

Gender and Literature

Pre-Calculus

Lunch

AP Psychology

College Preparatory Course

I walk into the too-familiar room that belongs to Mr. Hastings during homeroom period. I sit down in the back, as per usual. Isabelle doesn't have homeroom with me this year, and neither does Simon. Sebastian doesn't either. Same with Maia. I'm kind of all alone here.

At least I hope so.

Because the alternative is that a familiar boy whose eyes I can't look into anymore walks in here. And he sits down. And we stay seated, and my heart breaks. I don't think I can handle that.

After my fight with Jocelyn, I stayed at Sebastian's for two days. I sent Luke a message, telling him that I was staying with a friend and that I couldn't go back. I didn't tell Izzy to cover for me. I didn't even tell Izzy what was going on until a week after the fight. I mean, she had all that crap with Simon to deal with, even though they're back together now, so yeah.

Things with my mom went back to normal quickly. That's just the way she is. For two weeks, I felt a little sick looking at her, but everything is okay now. Thinking about it hurts. Thinking about how she just _does _these things—how she has _always _done them—without feeling a little bit of regret is slowly killing me. So I choose not to. I focus on the one thing that matters this year: getting into college. Getting _out_. Out of my home and out of her life.

But it's hard. Which is why I need to be alone, as opposed to with Jace, during my homeroom period. Because his mere presence makes me feel like crumbling, and people who get things done are always so together.

When the bell rings, indicating the beginning of homeroom, and Jace doesn't show, I let out a sigh of relief. I'm alone. Thank _God_.

Mr. Hastings introduces himself to the new people in homeroom. I don't mind him, really, but I wish I'd gotten a new teacher. Seriously. This guy's a math teacher, and he has math puns plastered all over the walls. Posters of graphs and equations also decorate the room. All of the walls are white, but that's barely noticeable. Because of the goddamn posters.

He's, like, in his forties, and he's always drinking coffee and on his laptop, undoubtedly reading about math and sharing math jokes on Facebook and whatnot. Jesus.

He makes us introduce ourselves as a "fun little game" and whatever, so the entirety of homeroom now knows that I had Hastings last year, and that I like art, and that my name is Clary Fray, and that I'm from New York. Yup. I don't pay attention to the rest of the people, really, because all we do during homeroom is either a) work on homework we didn't do at home, b) scroll through our phones, looking bored, c) nap, and d) gossip. It doesn't matter if we know each other by name as long as we have good gossip.

I choose to open the group chat during this time.

Clary: I'm dying. Can't believe I have Hastings again.

Isabelle: Whatever. I have some Fitzgerald lady who looks like she has a stick up her butt. She's a ninth grade teacher.

Clary: Poor ninth graders.

Maia: She's hell. I have her too.

Isabelle: Yeah. At least we'll die together.

Clary: Where is Simon?

Isabelle: No idea. Probably changing his schedule.

Clary: Makes sense.

I choose to play Candy Crush (an old favorite) while waiting for this excruciatingly long homeroom period to end. When it does, I wander over to AP European History, not surprised to find Simon there with me. He may love science and math, sure, but he's also an insane history geek. It's pretty awesome.

When the bell rings, I find myself relieved, once again, at the fact that Jace isn't in this class with me. I'm able to sit down and actually _focus _as the teacher introduces herself as Mrs. Oliver. She says she's new, and that she's looking forward to teaching this course, and then she hands out a syllabus and shows us the size of the binder we need to keep.

"This course is amazing. Enriching, wonderful, and amazing. But," Mrs. Oliver says, "it is also a lot of work. If you don't feel like you're up to the challenge, then feel free to drop out. But, if you are up to the challenge, I hope to see your best work."

It doesn't intimidate me. I mean, it does a little bit, but I'm still staying. I look at other people as they shift in their seats and mouth words like _wow _and _shit _to each other.

In AP Spanish, I'm greeted with familiar faces. Isabelle and Sebastian are there, waiting for me. I say hello to Sebastian with a hug. He always smells amazing, but today I realize how much I've missed him. We haven't hung out in three weeks, and it feels like forever. I cling to him for an embarrassingly long amount of time before letting go.

"How are you?" he asks me, settling down beside me. Isabelle takes the seat in front of me.

"I'm good." I smile. "Much better than the last time you saw me. How are _you_? How was soccer camp?"

"It was awesome," he says. He and some of the guys from the team signed up for this summer camp in Mexico. I know Jace participated too, along with a little less than half of the soccer team. "Mexico's amazing."

"I bet," I say.

"I'll tell you all about it later, okay?"

I nod, giving him a smile. "Can't wait."

When the bell rings, indicating that snack time is now in session and whatnot, Sebastian turns to face me as he gathers his things. "We need to hang out, Fray. I've missed you."

"Join us at Java Jones," Isabelle tells him. "We're going after school."

"Hey, that'd be awesome. Thanks."

"No problem." She smiles at him, and then looks at me. "You ready to go?"

I nod. "Bye, Seb."

"Later."

On our way to the little lounge area where we always meet up with our friends, Isabelle turns to me. "You know, I sometimes wonder if he still likes you."

"What?"

"Yeah," she says. "Like, he's so nice to you, and he loves spending time with you, even though you're his ex."

"It's this great thing called _friendship_."

She makes a face at me. "It's just weird."

I shrug. "I don't know. Looking back, I guess we were never really in love with each other."

"But you loved each other."

"Yeah," I admit. "And, you know, we were attracted to each other. But it's kind of like…it wasn't the love you fight for, you know? We just let ourselves settle into different things because, well, as long as we have each other, it's okay. Even if we're not dating."

"You guys are adorable," she tells me. "You know, as friends."

I smile. "Uh-huh."

"So," she says as we go up the second flight of stairs, "have you encountered Jace at all?"

"No."

"I did."

"Really? What class?"

"PE."

I wince. "Ew. Why are you taking that?"

"I wanna get in shape, okay?"

"You are so gross. Go away."

She laughs. "Yeah, well, it pays off." She flips her hair dramatically.

"You're such a dork."

"If by 'dork' you mean tragically beautiful, then _yes_, yes I am."

I shake my head. "I can't handle this. You're worse than your boyfriend."

Isabelle stops me by placing an arm on my shoulder. "You shouldn't even joke about that."

I break into a grin along with her, and we make it to the little area where we meet up with our friends. I settle into one of the super comfortable red chairs, dumping my bag on the floor. It's not even heavy. I just don't wanna do this.

I'm excited for this year. I am. I get to _leave_. I get to do the one thing I've been waiting forever for. I get to move out and move on, and I get to be happy.

Because, damn it, I deserve to be happy.

But, I mean, all happiness aside, I'm gonna die this year.

We have classes and extracurricular activities and college applications. I mean, Mom wants me to get a _job_, and I still wanna work at the gallery and submit art to the magazine and do a billion things on top of that. So I'm gonna be dead. And naturally—_naturally_—the last thing I should be thinking about is, like, whether or not I'm gonna see Jace around, but it's the only _goddamn _thought that seems to occupy my stupid brain.

And I find him. I find him in Environmental Science, because life hates me. I want to tell him along the lines of, you know, _I thought you'd be in a more advanced science class or something_. But I don't. We're not on speaking terms; he's made that perfectly clear.

Nothing has changed.

I sit down where I usually would: a corner, in the back. I take out a pen and start drawing on the back of my hand. It's become a nervous habit of mine, I guess, but I'd rather do that than bite my nails or chew on my lips or something. So I just draw things. I write lyrics, actually—I write _I think we're haunted _on my left hand, as small as I can—and then, when the bell rings again, I let out a breath and put the cap back on my pen.

Our teacher starts talking. Her name is Mrs. Carstairs, and she's really nice, and I would—I _really _would—pay attention and care if I weren't so damn distracted by trying to _seem _like I'm only paying attention to her.

But the truth is that I haven't been able to stop thinking about what Jace said to me. I know that he said that it didn't change anything, but the sentiment was surprisingly sweet. It didn't mean anything. I know. And I know that the two of us, you know, are never gonna be a thing. I've accepted the fact that our future is nonexistent, that whatever dreams I've been clinging onto for the past four years are gone now.

It still makes me sad, though. Because, even before, even when things were absolute _shit _between us, I held on to some sort of hope that he'd call me up or send me a message or come up to me and just tell me that he wanted to listen to what I wanted to say. I always thought that it would happen, because that's how it always does, right? In stories and movies and TV shows and even in plays. There's always a scene like that. But, well, in real life, all you get is a whole lot of waiting and hoping and wishing on that freaking 11:11 bullshit (which, by the way, 100% _does not work_) and a whole lot of disappointment when—surprise!—nothing _fucking _happens.

I also have Jace in Gender and Literature. _Awesome_. I don't know why he'd even take this class, anyway, though we _did _also take Sci-Fi Lit, and I'm pretty sure our school only covers one more lit class.

Existential Lit.

Maia took Existential Lit for a whole day last year. She couldn't do it. She physically could not sit through the class, because it was all philosophical and weird, and I feel that on a spiritual level. I feel like no seniors can handle people throwing questions about the meaning of life at them. Trust me. I can barely handle making it through a school day with regular questions; I don't think I can handle a whole period (five times a week, for, like, months!) of a teacher asking me what the meaning of life is and _yes, Clarissa, but what does it mean? _I can't do it.

Anyway, so he's in Gender and Lit with me, and I sit at my usual spot, and he sits two rows away from me, as per usual. I doodle things on the back of my hand to keep from looking over at him. I may have registered that things are done between us, but it's not something I'm happy about. At all. It's more like an overwhelming sense of loss sometimes—in times like these, for example, when I'm stuck in a classroom with a boring teacher talking to us about the stupid class, when all I can think about is whether or not I should just sneak a peak so my heart will stop beating just a tad bit faster than usual, just so I can calm the nerves that have surfaced? So I can cure the boredom that's overcoming me?

I make it through Pre-Calc and my lunch period and AP Psych and my College Prep Course—which Jace is in, of course—and I just can't wait to meet up with my friends. There's been something kind of building up inside me, and I feel like I'm just gonna burst into tears without explanation if I don't interact someone _right the fuck now_.

I mean, like, I had Maia and Isabelle in Pre-Calc, but our teacher for that has a stick up his ass, so we couldn't talk the entire time, especially not since I was kinda late for it. Anyway, I meet them by the exit, and I just feel so overwhelmed that I give Simon a big hug. I went through most of the summer without him, and, well, I know that Isabelle's, like, my girl best friend and all, but Simon is just my guy best friend, and he's equally as important. And yes, Isabelle asks a lot of questions, and that's good. I mean, I do it too. But Simon just takes one look at me and he gets me. If I don't wanna talk, then he doesn't ask. And I, personally, don't know how anybody can be like that, but I'm so, so thankful for that weird trait anyway. He hugs me back, and I squeeze him tightly.

"I missed you."

"We've been hanging out ever since I got back."

"Yeah, well," I say. "I still missed you."

He laughs into my shoulder. "I missed you too."

Sebastian comes up behind Isabelle. He's with Jace, naturally, but the two part ways by the entrance. I make a point to focus on Sebastian rather than the ridiculously attractive blond guy who happens to be walking beside him.

I feel like I can finally breathe when he's gone.

"Hey," Seb says. "Are we all good to go?"

"Yup," we chorus, and make our way to Java Jones.

Once we're inside, we all order smoothies, and we sit down at a booth by the window—the one kinda shaped like a semi-circle—and we talk about our day.

Of course, Isabelle asks, "So, Clary, did you see more of the asshole?"

"Jace?" Sebastian asks.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, and yes."

"Do explain," she prompts.

I sigh. "I have him in three classes. And two of them are in a row. And we're not talking."

"Ugh, but _why _can't we just, like, kick his ass or something?" she asks. "That's the one wild thing I wanna do my senior year."

"Don't waste the wild thing on him," I tell her. "Trust me, you'll find something better to do."

"What happened?" Sebastian frowns.

"Nothing _happened_." I shrug. "Things between us aren't gonna change. He's made that perfectly clear."

"I'm sorry, Clary," Maia says, looking at me with the same words written all over her face. Her face is basically saying _I'm sorry _to me.

I manage a smile. "Thanks, Maia. I just have to, like, _really _get over it, you know? I'm annoying myself with all of this Jace bullshit." I shake my head. "It's been four years! How—" _How am I not over this yet? _I shake my head again. "I hate not being able to be fully coordinated enough so that, when I think something, I actually do it. Because I tell myself to get over it every single day, and I tell myself that there are, like, a million reasons to get over it, and I list them in my mind, and then I'm near him and it's like all of that falls apart, and I'm just left with a bunch of self-loathing, because all I've wanted for the past year is to just _get over it_."

Heavy silence falls upon us, and I think, _Fuck, I've fucked up. I've made it awkward_. But then Maia says, "Dude, I was with Jordan for way too long, and, I mean, I don't think I'm still entirely over it. I don't think I'm ever gonna _be _entirely over it." She sighs. "Even though he was a fucking dick."

"Some people are just hard to let go," Sebastian tells me.

I give them both a tired smile. "Thank you, guys. But tell me more about your day. Seb, are you really taking AP Chem _and _AP Physics?"

He launches into his explanation of why he's taking both AP Chem and AP Physics. I mean, Simon's taking AP Bio and AP Calculus, but, I mean, _two sciences _and _a math class_. That's just crazy.

We end up leaving Java Jones at five. Sebastian says he's gonna stick around, and Isabelle and Simon are gonna just walk around, and Maia's house is super close to school, so I take the subway by myself all the way home. I put on my iPod and hope it calms me down.

_Show your hands_

_If you need a new coat of paint_

_If you're bummed about heavy things_

_Like anchors hidden somewhere 'neath your skin_

_Or if your head's just an empty box_

_And if your heart has become spare parts_

_If your days are now just something you must bear_

_Well, oh, it seems you're a lot like me_

_You dug yourself into places you never thought you would be_

_Don't you fret and don't you mind_

_The only constant is change_

_And you never know what you'll find_

I listen to the rest of the song with the sound pumping in my veins and the lyrics stuck in my heart.

My mom is waiting for me when I get home. Jon is still home—he leaves tomorrow—so she made him work at the gallery while she had a day off, which she, apparently, has not had in _ages_. She's cooking right now, probably making dinner. Or a late lunch. I don't know.

"Hi," she tells me. "How was your day?"

I shrug. "Eh. It was fine. I hung out with the guys after school."

"The guys?"

"Maia, Isabelle, Simon, and Sebastian."

"And Sebastian?" She lifts an eyebrow.

I make a face. "You know we're good friends."

"I know. I'm just messing with you." She turns around to keep cooking. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Okay."

She doesn't mind that I just don't eat dinner outside of my room. It's kind of the norm around here, actually, which is awesome. I go into my room, set my bag down, close the door, lock it, and then just let out a long sigh and fall onto bed.

I am so tired.

How have I done this before? For three years? Without wanting to, like, die?

I know that I'm being dramatic, but the first day of school is always hard for me. Because, you know, doing nothing—or at least doing things I actually _like _without having to wake up too early for my brain to properly function—is kind of my thing. I love it. I love being lazy. I don't care if it's, like, the worst thing ever. Sometimes, in the summer, I think, "I should do something," but then I just don't, and I'm reminded of what a great decision I made the _second _I'm forced to wake up early for school.

And it's not just waking up early. It's going through a _whole day _of people making out in the middle of the hallways, of people gossiping and going super slowly up the stairs, of people making dumb, stupid, ignorant comments. I mean, yes, some people are like super intellectual and smart and, like, _yeah_, I go to school with some fucking brilliant people, but other people make me want to kill someone.

But I do what I always do. I watch three episodes of _Friends _while eating dinner and relaxing with the AC on. And then I take a shower, and I watch some more of _Friends _while in bed, and then, when it's almost eleven (wild, I know), I close my laptop, place it on the desk, pick out some clothes for tomorrow, make sure I've charged my phone, and turn off the lights.

* * *

"You can't _not _go," Sebastian tells me. "Come on! Do it for meeee."

I sigh. "Seb, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because Jace is gonna be there."

"So?"

"So I don't wanna see him."

"There are gonna be more people there."

"It doesn't change the fact that he will also be there."

"Come on, Clary," Sebastian says. "It's the first party I'm throwing this year. It's the first party _of _the year. I need you to be there."

"Why?"

"Because you bring good luck."

I smile and poke his shoulder. "I so don't."

"Yes, you do. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be…" He sighs. "I don't know. I don't know where I'd be without you."

I groan. "_Fine_. Fine. God. I'll go to the stupid party."

He grins. "You're the best. Now, come on. This Pre-Calc quiz is tomorrow, and you're really bad at it."

I let out a fake gasp. "You _don't say_?"

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Come on."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because studying is pointless."

"Fine. Let's talk about the future."

I let out another groan. I'm fine talking about college, but I'm not in the mood for it with him. "_Fine_. Fine. Give me the damn paper. Jesus, I hate you."

"I don't know why you need to hate Jesus."

I try not to laugh; instead, I glare at him and look at the paper. We're just reviewing, but, oh my God, I am overwhelmingly bad at math. Which I've proven over. And over. And _over_. But I'm still taking math classes, because everything sucks, and school is terrible.

His party's actually tomorrow—Sebastian's, I mean. Obviously. Anyway, I'm supposed to come over earlier and help him set up, because that's what friends do, I guess. I don't know. My friends have never really thrown parties. Isabelle's wanted to, but she needs Alec for that, because he knows how to handle things better than she does, and because he has Magnus, who is the ultimate party thrower. Either way, it just hasn't worked out.

The next twenty-four hours breeze by. I get about four hours of sleep, given that I'm freaking out about my Pre-Calc quiz _and _my AP Euro quiz _and _the party, and I show up to school looking like a zombie, as I usually do, and then I take my quizzes, which I maybe failed, and then I go over to Seb's, and here we are. Settin' things up.

I don't wanna be setting anything up. I wanna go home.

But Sebastian is my friend, and he would do anything for me, and I would do anything for him, so here I am.

If you'd have told me four years ago that Sebastian Verlac would've become one of my best friends, I would've probably laughed at you. Like, seriously. I would've laughed really hard. Because, I mean, yeah. Dating him or imagining hooking up with him is one thing. The fact that we had a year-long relationship was just astounding, really, because what the _hell_. But then this friendship thing is like…a whole different thing. Seriously. Because we've seen each other inside out, and we still choose to stay in this. He's seen me in more ways than anyone else, and he still chooses to be my friend.

I mean, I choose to be his, but it's not like that's hard. He makes me laugh. And he's really nice. And yeah, he struggles with a lot of shit, like how he drinks too much whenever he gets the chance, and how he's kind of really reckless and doesn't take care of himself. And yeah, sometimes we can't make conversation. But we've accepted it. We don't need to make conversation.

"You nervous?" he asks me.

I look up at him. "Yeah," I admit. "It's mostly the fact that I'm gonna be drinking, and I haven't gotten any sleep, so I have, like, no patience right now."

"Tonight's gonna be fun," he tells me. "You just have to, you know, let loose."

I grin. "Sure."

"I'm serious!"

"I know," I tell him. "But if you want me to hook up with someone at the party, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I, like, _know _them." I shudder.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yeah, dude. If I'm gonna hook up with someone for one night, it's gonna be with a total stranger."

"Sure."

"It's true."

"Just—" He rakes a hand through his hair. "Promise me you'll be safe. You know how parties can get."

"Yeah, yeah. You're acting like a big brother right now, and it's kind of creeping me out."

"You _looooove _me."

I shove him to the side and pull my phone out of my pocket. I have a message from Isabelle, who's on her way. I report it to Sebastian, who's still setting up the alcohol table. I'm, like, the only friend here to help, and I suspect that he did this on purpose so he could have this talk with me before the party.

He has those lights where you can adjust the brightness, so he dims the lighting for the party. He makes sure to lock his father's room, but every other room is open. Which is awesome for the people who are getting laid, I'm sure, but what the heck am I supposed to do for the rest of the night?

I'm staying over either at Isabelle's or Sebastian's—not sure which yet, really, because I'm not sure if Simon and Isabelle are gonna go back to hers for follow-up rounds—so I make sure to leave my bag in his closet. People start arriving, all very excited to drink and officially start their senior year.

I take a Smirnoff from the fridge. It's green apple, which is my favorite flavor, so I sip and talk with Isabelle about how Sebastian's been seeing this girl he met at camp. He filled me in on it earlier, and it was actually pretty awesome. She sounds super awesome, too, and she's gorgeous. She's supposedly coming to the party tonight, but, seeing how crowded it's getting, I'm not sure I'll be able to meet her.

I move on to my second Smirnoff, and then to my third, and then I switch it up, you know. It's been over an hour. I eat some snacks while drinking something fruity. Isabelle made it for me, and it's amazing, and I love it. I know it has vodka and orange juice, but I don't know what else. Either way, it's the best fucking drink in the world.

Simon and Isabelle have gone to make out or have sex or whatever, so now it's just Maia and me. She's fidgeting, tugging at a string in her hoodie, so I ask her what's wrong.

"Oh, you know," she says. "The guy I like is here."

"What?"

She bites her lip. "I didn't wanna tell anyone, just in case I didn't end up _really _liking him, but yeah."

"Who?" I prompt, leaning over.

"It's Bat."

"Bat?"

"Yeah, Bat. The guy who's always playing the guitar."

"When's 'always'?"

"Dude! The guy we pass sometimes to get to our spot."

"Oh!" I remember him. He's _cute_. "Oh my God, Maia, you should totally go for it."

"Are you crazy?" she hisses. "He would _never ever ever ever_—"

"Well, he's checking you out right now, so I don't see why not."

"What?" Her head snaps up. "Where is he?"

"I'm facing him, but you aren't. Now go _talk _to him, dude. Go."

And so, magically, and after taking a shot, she does.

So I end up alone. I decide to go to one of the rooms to just kind of chill and drink by myself. I stumble into one of them blindly, and it's so dark that I can't see anything. I close the door and lock it and sigh.

And then I turn on the lights—or, well, make them a little less dim—I almost scream.

Jace Wayland is sitting at the edge of the bed, looking _very _confused. He's holding a drink in his hand, and he narrows his eyes at me, and, oh my _fucking _God, he is so fucking wasted. I can see it. He can barely stay awake right now. Oh Jesus.

"I should—uh—I should go."

"Yeah," he says. "Maybe."

Despite myself, I turn around. "What?"

"I said yeah, and then maybe."

I roll my eyes. "You should go to a bathroom. You're about to start puking. Which…" I shake my head. "Why did you even have to get this drunk, anyway? The party's only been going on for"—I check my phone—"three hours." Wow. Three hours is a lot.

"Well, I got really drunk because I don't have Kaelie anymore, and drinking is fun."

"I don't even know who Kaelie is." I hate how annoying my voice sounds. "Look, I'm gonna go."

"Whatever. No surprise there."

I turn to him slowly. "What?"

He looks me dead in the eyes and says, "Well, you always leave."

"Maybe I do always leave," I say. "And maybe it wouldn't be so goddamn _hard _if you stopped coming back. So why are you _still _coming back? I mean, why are you _here_, Jace, calling me out on this while you're—" I shake my head. "You're drunk. I'm tipsy. I'm gonna go."

He waves me off. I go over to the alcohol table, and I take four shots, and then I go to a room, and I feel like I'm gonna be sick. _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did I do this. Why. This is the worst feeling ever and I never ever ever want to feel like this again. Never. Ever.

Ever.

E

V

E

R.

I find a really comfortable bed, and I manage to get myself on it, and then I pass out.

* * *

The sun is making me blind.

And it's also giving me a headache.

I flip it off as I make my way into the kitchen. I want to puke, but I don't, because Jace is in the kitchen.

Jace. I feel like something happened last night, but I don't remember. Whatever. We probably fought. It's probably for the best, anyway.

I drink some water and get my bag from Seb's closet. He's still asleep, and there's a girl on the bed with him, so I don't disturb them as I get my bag. I grab a towel from the closet out in the hall and make my way into the bathroom. I ignore Jace entirely, because whatever. I just shower, change, make sure I'm at least slightly okay, and then I walk out.

I text Sebastian, you know, a quick _I left and the party was great _type of thing, and then I go home.

Because I just need to be home.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	30. We're On Our Way

**AN: **_Hey, guys! So the chapter's on time today. Sorry for the delay last time. Things are a little bit less hectic now (though classes start tomorrow for me, so they won't be like this for long), but I still can't update from my laptop, for some reason, so the lovely spikeyhairgood is doing me the amazing favor of updating, because she's awesome. Also, thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, for being so amazing and beta'ing this for me, and to DeathCabForMari, for your amazing articles and telling me when people are being stupid, as well as when people say astoundingly brilliant things. I love you guys. :) _

_To my lovely Musical Guest: I'm so sorry, but I haven't been able to get to your songs, even though I've really wanted to. I definitely will this week, though! I've been so busy these past few days that, when I manage to get to my dorm (because two nights ago I just said "fuck it" and stayed at my friend's dorm instead), I just immediately pass out. But now that school is starting and pre-school activities/programs are over, I can get to listening to your songs, which I'll most likely talk about in my next AN! Your music suggestions are still welcome and appreciated. :) _

_Also, the chapter song: I feel like I've used it before, maybe, but it applies to this chapter a lot, and I love Radical Face, so yes. _

_Thanks to all of you for reading, and I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_Show your hands_

_If you need a new coat of paint_

_If your bones are now heavy things_

_Like anchors hidden somewhere 'neath your skin_

_Or if your head's just an empty box_

_If your heart has become spare parts_

_If your days are now just something you must bear_

_Well, oh, it seems you're a lot like me_

_You dug yourself into places_

_You never thought you would be_

_But don't you fret, and don't you mind_

_The only constant is change_

_And you never know what you'll find_

_Yeah, tomorrow I might wake up nice and clean_

_And I might believe the things I said I didn't mean_

_And this might turn and wind up just the way we'd dreamed_

_And I might become the things I swore I'd always be_

_Well, we're always on our way_

_We're on our way_

"We're On Our Way" by Radical Face

* * *

I tap my pen anxiously against my desk, staring at the blank Word document. I'm supposed to be writing my Common App essay—hell, I was supposed to start it last week, but our teacher gave us an extension, and so I procrastinated it. Of course, our College Prep teacher wants to walk us through writing the college essay. Which is great! Awesome!

If only she weren't making us give a copy to _everyone _in the class for more feedback.

And like. Okay. The thing is, I would be okay with that. I _would_. But the idea of Jace reading my essay—and me reading his—is just so weird. It's so surreal. Like, the one thing I want to do is stay away from him, but life keeps pushing us together. And I feel so _helpless_, like I can't do anything about the fact that he is always there, two rows away, keeping his distance. I keep mine, too.

And yet.

He has to read whatever I end up writing.

I've decided to write about the impact on art on my life. I know what I want to write, but I don't know how to write it, because it's as if someone had wiped my mind clean of ideas. Art is one of the most important resources in my life, and, suddenly, I can't figure out what to say about it.

I'm playing music in the background, as per usual. A new song starts, and I close my eyes, letting it inspire me.

_I drove by all the places_

_You used to hang out, getting wasted_

_I thought about our last kiss_

_How it felt, the way you tasted_

I hum part of the song along, leaning my head back against nothingness. I feel so, so tired. It's eleven p.m. on a Saturday, and I can't figure this out.

_Sometimes I start to wonder_

_Was it just a lie?_

_If what we had was real_

_How could you be fine?_

'_Cause I'm not fine at all_

I wonder if this is how he feels sometimes. I mean, I know it isn't, because he is so clearly over us. But did he ever wonder? Did he ever want to forget? I shake my head and take a breath. I can't think about this now.

Sometimes I do, though. When it gets late, and it's just me and my thoughts, I wonder if he ever wishes that things were different. That we were together. I don't know. These are the thoughts I keep to myself, because I know my friends would worry if I told them that I still think about him. Hell, I worry myself with this kind of thought, really.

Whatever. I look at my screen, determined to get this essay done and over with. Breathing is hard; my chest feels kind of heavy. But I go anyway.

_Using art as a form of expression throughout my life has helped me explore myself as I've grown, as well as the different emotions that diverse situations ignite within me._

I keep writing, ignoring the fact that this essay is total shit. I mean, it's true. Despite the cheesy phrasing, art is who I am. I am not myself if you take art away.

By midnight, I have a full essay. I read it over and print it and place it on my desk with a post-it that says to read it tomorrow when I'm, you know, more awake. I get into bed. After settling my nerves and reassuring myself that, _yes, _it will be okay that Jace reads this, I fall into an easy sleep.

* * *

I show up to class on Monday with twelve copies of my Common App essay ready to go.

I'm a little nervous about people reading it, but whatever. They're inside a folder, which I clutch tightly as I walk into the classroom. I settle into my seat and take out the papers. Twelve. One for the teacher, and eleven more for everyone else.

When the bell rings, the teacher asks us to hand out the papers. It's a mess of people passing papers all over the classroom, but we all end up with eleven other copies. We have _eleven _essays to read and revise.

"Okay, people," our teacher says. She's waited until all the papers are out to speak. "The first round of revision is incredibly crucial. I told you all to find something meaningful to talk about, and I hope that you have. I want all of you to make comments on the content. Sure, if there are any grammar mistakes, feel free to correct them, but I want you to write…a reply, almost, to the essay. Pay attention to whether or not it makes you feel like you know that person." She pauses, and I see people nod. "Let's get to work, then. If you want to do this in the library or out in the hall, just ask for a pass or a note."

I walk up to the teacher, which, in itself, is not easy for me to do. Teachers, to me, are incredibly intimidating. I don't know when I started to view them as such, but that's kind of stuck with me. Anyway, I stand behind this girl who's asking for a library pass, and I feel kind of nervous, a more subdued version of how I feel when I have to give an oral presentation.

When it's my turn, I ask, "Can I have a library pass too?"

She smiles at me. "Sure." She writes _Clarissa Fray _on a green slip and signs her name. "Here you go."

"Thanks," I mumble. I go to my desk, gather my things, and walk out.

The hallway is empty, save for the occasional student that asks to go to the bathroom and takes a few extra seconds to "explore" the hallway. Which includes staring at the ceiling and walls. Kids are weird. I don't know. Anyway, I go downstairs to the first floor, where the library is, and hand the librarian my pass. After she nods, I sit at the very back of the library, where I can read the essays and not be bothered.

I organize the papers by alphabetical order, just for the sake of Jace being the last one. I start with the first essay, in which a fellow classmate of mine talks about how her dog dying taught her a lesson on the fleeting reality of life.

_Fuck it,_ I think to myself, because I _need _to read his essay. I take it from the back of the pile and hesitate for a split second before I begin reading.

_My grandfather's favorite thing to say when I was a kid was the following: "Life is meaningless without passion."_

_I never cared much for anything while growing up, for I was conditioned not to. My father left us when I was young, and my mother worked hard, yet found herself disappointed whenever things did not work out for the best. This all changed, however, when my mother forced me to try out for the soccer team as a way to keep me outside the house while she worked, because she did not want me to be alone. I was eleven, if I recall correctly, and I showed up the tryouts begrudgingly. I had, of course, practiced before. I ended up being picked to be on the team, but it wasn't until our first practice together that I realized that there is magic in the way people come together to play such a unifying sport. To many, soccer is just a group of people throwing a ball around a field, causing uproar for no good reason._

_To me, soccer is the thing that helped me find meaning in my life._

The essay goes on for more than that, of course, but, oh my God, when did Jace become such a goddamn good writer? What the hell?! When did this happen?

I have to stop reading. I have to. We're doing this for a week, so I have time, and I definitely need a break. And a drink. _Definitely _a drink.

I send Isabelle a text telling her to meet me in the library. She has an elective now as well, so she shows up in less than five minutes.

I give her the essay. "Read this."

She frowns. "What is it?"

"Jace's college essay," I tell her. "Don't look at me like that, Iz! It's an assignment for College Prep." I sigh. "Just read it."

She does. I watch her expression change, shifting from slightly horrified/scandalized to impressed and surprised. Because seriously. This is his _first goddamn draft_.

"Holy shit," Isabelle says, handing it back. "I mean, wow. He should write _my _college essay."

"I couldn't even finish it," I confess.

"It's good," she tells me. "Very."

"I'm aware."

"You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah. Go back to class, okay? We'll talk about it later."

She nods, offering me a smile as she gets up. After she's gone, I finish the rest of the essay. As expected, it's consistently fantastic. But I _do _have a few comments.

Usually, I would be apprehensive about verbalizing my thoughts in regards to such a personal statement involving him, but it's part of the class.

So I do it.

_Comments_

_First off, your essay is incredibly well-written. Some of the sentences were really, really amazing, and obviously very well thought-out, because they still felt natural. You conveyed the message well, and you definitely let the reader know how important soccer has been to your development as a person. However, are you playing soccer in college? Is this something you're gonna be pursuing in the future, or have your goals changed? Because, well, I'm assuming this will be listed in your activities, and whoever reviews your application is gonna see the amount of time and work you put into this sport. My suggestion would be to tackle a new subject, something that says more about you as a person. This is a great essay, as I said before, but a more personal, eye-opening essay would present you as a more well-rounded student. It would offer admissions officers to get to know you better, which is essentially what they hope to accomplish by asking you to write this essay. If you stay with this topic, though, I'd just rearrange the structure a bit so that there is no repetition of ideas, but everything else is amazing._

I leave it at that. God, I sound like an fangirly freak. Whatever. I liked the damn paper, okay?

When the bell rings, I walk over to my locker, change books, and slam the door a little too forcefully. My friends and I have no plans to meet up today, so I walk towards the exit. I'm looking at the floor, and I'm listening to music, which is why I'm mostly shocked when I run straight into Sebastian.

"Sorry," I mumble, adjusting my beanie. It's a super cold October afternoon, actually, and it's mostly because of the wind, so I figured that a beanie would help. "Oh." I notice it's him. "Hi, Seb."

"Hey, Clary. You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah, just ready to go home. You have soccer now, right?"

"Yup. I have to head to the field, actually, so I'll talk to you later?"

"Sure," I say. "Bye, Sebby."

"Bye, Clare."

I rush to make it to the subway station. I'm not really in a huge hurry, but I do wanna get inside, because this wind is killer.

I see a few familiar faces inside the station, and I manage a few smiles when I make eye contact, but I don't speak to anyone. When the train arrives, I get on and snag a seat. I stay seated until my stop, and then I leave, and that's that. My body feels like it's letting out an involuntary sigh when I get home and lie down on my bed, and I stay there a few extra seconds.

No one is home. I'm alone, and I take a breath. I'm getting a headache, I think. And I'm _so _tired. It's just fifteen past three. I could nap. I mean, I have three tests and a paper due tomorrow, but I could totally nap.

I probably shouldn't, though.

Damn me and my stupid determination to get straight As this year. I did pretty well last year—all As, with the exception of, of course, Algebra II and Physics, which were a B and a C, respectively—but I want to ace this year. I mean, it's my last year. I get to show colleges how much I've improved.

So I get some cold water from the kitchen, and I clean my desk, and I get ready to study.

* * *

"Okay," our college prep teacher says. It's Monday, and we've all finished reading (and commenting on) everyone else's Common App essays. "Everyone's had a chance to read over the essays, right?" Everyone nods. "Excellent. What I want all of you to do now is to give back the essays to the original writers, so that those people are left with all of their commented essays. After that, you're all gonna talk to each other about your essays."

A girl lifts her hand. "We're gonna talk to _everyone_?"

The teacher nods. "I have a system prepared already, and I've separated all week for this activity."

I look around. Everyone looks tired and pretty much like they'd rather be anywhere else but here. This, I think, is such a bad idea. So bad.

We all hand the essays out, and, once everything is in order, our teacher assigns us to a different person. It's two today, then three tomorrow, then two on Wednesday, three on Thursday, and one on Friday. Today, I'm with a girl called Maureen for the first half of the class, and then with Emma for the second half. I' pretty sure she's the one that wrote about the dog.

Maureen is this super pretty, young-looking blonde. Seriously, she looks like she's fourteen. She smiles at me when I sit down at the desk behind hers. She turns hers around so we're facing each other comfortably. I'm still pretty in awe at how young she looks. I mean, I also look super young, but seriously.

"Okay, Clary…" She rifles through her papers. "Here we go!" She finds my commentary, and I find hers.

She wrote a metaphorical essay comparing ice cream to something else. I don't remember. I _do _remember liking it enough, though, so my comments were very minor. Her critique of my essay says to expand more on how art has affected my interpersonal relationships—specifically my familial relationships—and says that it's very good for a first draft. Neither one of us really feels like commenting more on our essays anyway, so we just talk about which colleges we're thinking of applying to.

She wants to go to North Carolina—UNC Chapel Hill—but she feels, to me, like the kind of person who belongs in New York. I don't know. Her vibe is too intense for a place like North Carolina. Then again, I've never been to North Carolina, so I don't know. I wish her luck, and then I wait for Emma to sit down by me.

"Your essay is nice," I tell Emma. I read her critique of mine already. She liked it enough, too.

"Thanks. It's all bullshit, though."

I raise my eyebrows. "How come?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I've always known how fleeting life is. My parents were killed when I was a kid."

I don't really know what to do with this information. "Oh."

She shrugs. "A puppy seemed like a cuter, less gruesome story."

"It was convincing."

"Well, I did have one, and it did die. It just didn't teach me anything."

Jesus Christ. "Sorry."

"You didn't kill her," she says matter-of-factly. "Anyway, your essay was good. You're gonna apply to art school, right?"

I nod. "That's the plan. I'll have a few backups, but yeah."

"Good luck," she tells me. "We're done here, right?"

"Definitely."

When the bell rings, I go home, eat, study, and basically follow the same routine I've been following since the school year started. Shit's been really busy, so I haven't been able to go to Java Jones and hang with my friends as much as I'd like, but I'm too tired to really care. I've been texting my friends constantly, but that's all I can bring myself to do, you know?

When my mother gets home, she knocks lightly on my door. "I need to talk to you."

"I'll be right out," I tell her. I _know _I didn't do anything to get myself in trouble, so I don't know what this could be about. I make my way out anyway, and she's laying out take-out boxes for us on the counter. Yay, take-out!

"Where's Luke?" I ask.

"He's on his way," she says. "The two of us need to talk to you, but he told me I should go ahead and tell you without him, because, well, the city's packed, and this is something more appropriate for the two of us."

"O-kay," I say, sitting down "What's up?"

"Clary, I know that you want to go to college outside of New York," she starts, and I'm suddenly paralyzed, because there's a big _but _in this statement. "And I support that. Luke and I both fully support that. I don't know _why _you want to leave so badly, but, if that's what you really want, then we will do everything in our power to make it happen." She sits down beside me. "Luke and I will try. We really, really will. But nothing is set in stone, okay? Just because we support you and want the best for you doesn't mean we will always be able to give it to you."

"But Jon got to leave!"

"On a huge scholarship," she reminds me.

"I can get a scholarship too." _Hopefully_. My grades aren't the best, but I got my SAT up to a 1930. "Mom, I want to leave New York, okay? I _need _to leave New York. I don't know where I'm going, but—" I take a shaky breath. "I'm not staying."

"You can't say that, Clary. You don't _know _that," she says gently. "We don't know how things are going to work out. We simply do not. I just—I need you to know that we will try, but I also need you to know that, if you have to stay in New York, the world won't fall apart and end. It isn't the end of everything, okay? There are tons of great schools here."

_It's not about that_, I want to say, but I have the feeling that she isn't going to understand it anyway. "I'm leaving, Mom."

She sighs. "Clary—"

"There isn't another option for me."

With that, I stand up, take a take-out box and a fork, and make my way into my room, slamming the door shut.

* * *

Some weird twist of fate ended up being the reason why Jace and I are meeting one-on-one, without any other people to meet with, on Friday.

That's right. He's the one person I have to talk to in College Prep today.

I walk over to his seat. "Mind if we do this in the library?"

He shakes his head. "Let's go."

I go over to the teacher and ask for a pass. "Take your things," she tells me.

I nod. "Thanks."

I gather my things and make my way over to the library with Jace by my side. As per usual, there are more lingerers in the hallways, since it's Friday. A few of them say hi to Jace, including a super pretty blonde girl whose name I don't know. I think she's the one I caught him making out with a few times. Anyway, we make our way inside the library. I take the table by the back and dump my bag on the table. It makes a little too much noise, and the librarian glares at me.

I don't apologize. It's Friday. Who cares? I sit down, take out my essay with his comments, and look at him.

I've read the comments. Of course I have. I got home on Monday and it was one of the first things I did while "studying." I look down at them again.

_Comments_

_Your passion for art and its effect on your life is clearly shown throughout this essay. However, the writing lacks fluency. It's too stiff, too formal. It's a college essay, sure, but it can't sound like something you'd write for a class, either. This is about you. You have to show who you really are. You need to show, not tell, and maybe elaborate more on the effect of art in your life by showing specific examples._

"This is pretty much what I've been getting," I say. "Except the writing thing."

He nods. "I underlined some of the sentences that didn't seem to flow together."

I turn the paper around. I hadn't seen this, really, but he _did_. "Wow. Thank you. This is super thorough."

He shrugs. "I'm just doing what the assignment's asking."

"_Still_. It was a good critique, and, given how anxious I am about this process, I appreciate your honesty."

"Well, then, you're welcome." Jace looks down at his paper. "You were also super honest. I appreciated it, actually. No one ever thought of telling me to write about something else."

"Like I said," I tell him, "it's a really good essay. Really. It'sby far the best I read. But," I add, "I don't know. It says something about you, sure, but something that I can kind of guess by looking at your activities, you know?"

"So." He looks at me, not breaking his stare. "What do you suggest I write about?"

I don't break mine, either. I hold his gaze as I say, "I don't know you enough to say."

"You're right," he says, looking down. "You don't."

"But maybe you can talk to someone who does," I suggest. "Maybe they'll be able to tell you. You're a good writer, but you just have to find the right thing to write about."

He nods. "You know, I didn't expect you to be this honest."

"Yeah, well." I shrug. "It's a lot easier to be honest with you now."

"Why?"

"Because…" I trail off. "I don't really care anymore about what you think of me."

"Good." Jace nods again. "It's better this way, you know."

"To express total apathy towards classmates? I'm aware."

He actually smiles at that. "With us. I'm glad you finally realized that we don't know each other anymore."

"Me too."

"And it's for the best that we don't want to," he reminds me.

"Thanks for the reminder," I say sarcastically. "Look, work on the essay, okay?" I sling my bag on my shoulder.

"The bell hasn't rung yet, you know." He eyes my bag.

"I don't feel like sitting around." I shrug. "Good luck. With your essay and your balls."

"In the field?"

"You know. All of your balls."

"Okay, Clary."

"Okay," I say softly, and then I walk away.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	31. Droplets

_Hi, guys! I know this chapter is a few days late and that I haven't replied to any reviews, but, again, college is kicking my ass. I'm still not caught up with my readings, and my Poli Sci class is so complicated that I've thought of dropping it altogether. (I won't, but still.) The situation is not fun and very, very stressful, so I apologize. There was also a situation with a boy, but I'm 80% sure that's cleared up now. Speaking of: I had the best date ever on Friday. Ever._

_Anyway, thanks to my lovely, amazing, fantastic beta, IWriteNaked, for basically binge beta'ing chunks of MS chapters. I love your face. Thanks to spikeyhairgood (who was living my dream in London this week!) for updating, and DeathCabForMari (because you're the best, and thank you for your encouraging words the other night). Finally, thanks to LuckyAsLockhart for attempting to upload this chapter (boo, FFN, for not working!) and for telling me not to go all MS Clary on you. That was amazing, and I laughed forever. _

_To my musical guest: I still haven't listened to the last two, but I'm in love with Halsey. "Is There Somewhere" is literally my song right now I'm listening to Badlands for the first time as I type this, and I'm sad about not being able to listen to it sooner, but I'm in love with her. I'll listen to the other two ASAP; sorry that I haven't yet! Thanks for the suggestions, and feel free to make more!_

* * *

_I hope you guys like this chapter!_

_I'm leaving you _

_Not sure if that's what I should do _

_It hurts so bad_

_I'm wanting you but can't go back _

_Trying to find, find _

_That all elusive peace of mind _

_Stuck here somehow_

_Shrouded beneath my fear _

_And I don't need it_

_And I'm walking down this road alone_

_And I figure all I'm thinking about is you _

_Is you, my love_

_My head is in a cloud of rain _

_And the world, it seems so far away_

_And I'm just waiting for_

_The droplets to drop _

_You left a mark _

_And I wear it proudly on my chest_

_Above my heart_

…

_My eyes are painted with regret_

_And I don't need it_

"Droplets (live)" by Lewis Watson ft. Gabrielle Aplin

* * *

I read over my college essay for what feels like the millionth time in my life, the words blurring together.

I'm so bored by it. Seriously. I know that I'm speaking from the heart, but I don't even care anymore. I want it to be perfect—perfect enough to get me out of New York, anyway—but it's never going to be. We've had more editing sessions in College Prep than I can remember, but, though my essay has improved, it doesn't feel good enough.

"Clary," Sebastian says from the bed, "stop obsessing over that goddamn essay. It's so perfect."

I bite my lip. "Do you think you can get Jace to read it?"

He frowns. "Why him?"

"Because," I say, "he gives great feedback."

"Okaaaaay," he tells me. "But don't you guys, like, not speak?"

I nod. "Hence why I'm asking _you _to ask him."

"Look, Clary, I don't know."

"Just ask." I roll my eyes. "If he says no, then that's fine. I just—his essay was great, and it kind of has everything mine is lacking, so I was hoping he would give me feedback on how to make mine more wowing. Besides," I add, "he doesn't care about me, so he doesn't care about hurting my feelings, which is _exactly _what I need."

Sebastian sighs. "Fine. I'll text him."

I clap. "Yay! Thank you!"

"I thought you were over him, anyway."

I grab some popcorn from the bowl on his desk and throw it at his face. "I _am _over him. Just because I don't go gaga over him anymore doesn't mean I don't appreciate the fact that he could be of great help right now."

He rolls his eyes. "Okay. Fine. Oh," he adds, "and he just said okay."

"Alright. Give me his email," I say. "Also, what's up with him? I was sure he'd say no."

"How come?"

"Well, he hates me."

"He doesn't _hate _you, Clary," Seb says, handing me the phone so I can see Jace's email. "What I'm about to tell you was told to me in confidence, but you need to know, okay? Jace spent a lot of time painting you as the bad guy, because admitting that you had valid reasons to just walk out on him would've hurt more."

My heart kind of hurts for him, but I've given up on trying to talk to him. "Well, he acts like he hates me, anyway."

"And he's a good actor," he tells me. "Look, I don't know the details, but I do know that, once upon a time, you meant everything to him."

I turn the chair around and close my eyes. "Yeah, well, ditto." I reopen them and hit the send button. "Tell him I've sent it, and that I'd appreciate it if he's extra harsh."

He shakes his head. "You're weird."

We're playing his iPod's music, and a song I like (and actually _recognize_) comes on.

_Oh, don't you dare look back_

_Just keep your eyes on me_

_I said, "You're holding back."_

_She said, "Shut up and dance with me."_

_This woman is my destiny_

_She said, "Ooh, shut up and dance with me."_

I start singing along as I wait for Jace's reply.

_Oh, we were born to get together_

_Born to get together_

Sebastian joins me in singing along now. I know that the two of us singing a song like this can be kind of weird to other people, but it isn't. It's one of our joint favorites, and we haven't been together in, like, over a year, and he's one of my best friends, and we're so cool with this. Even our friends are used to the fact that we just stayed friends. It's awesome.

_Deep in her eyes_

_I think I see the future_

_I realize this is my last chance_

_She took my arm_

_I don't know how it happened_

_We took the floor and she said_

We keep singing along, moving our heads to the upbeat sound.

_Ooh, shut up and dance with me_

"You know," I tell him. "When I first heard this song—especially the part about the future—I thought of Jace. I don't even know why." I shake my head. "And I don't know why I shared that information with you, either. It's just…now that I'm over him or whatever, I feel so silly about all the time I wasted thinking about him and wanting him to be with me."

"You shouldn't feel bad about it," he says to me. "This is typically what happens when you get over someone."

I nod. "I know. It's silly. I've let go."

And, just then, Jace's email shows up on my inbox. I open it and read.

_I told you I would be honest, so I will be. I'm 100% honest when I say that this essay is perfect. You must've read it about a billion times. Seriously, though, it's amazing. It's done. It's your voice coming through the pages, and it's really well written._

_Good luck with everything._

I write him back.

_Thank you. Good luck to you too._

I look over at Seb. "It's done."

"What'd Jace say?"

"That it was perfect."

He sighs. "Oh, thank God. Let's go make hot chocolate."

And so we do.

I didn't think I would ever feel at peace with Jace and our situation. I still feel, in some level, like he hates me. He doesn't glare at me anymore. In fact, when he speaks to me, he's polite. Not warm, but polite, which is definitely a start. But he just…he doesn't look at me. Ever. It's like he's so apathetic and void of emotion towards me that it's sometimes worse than when he showed _something_.

But no. I tell myself that it's better than hatred. And, somehow, I've learned to be okay with that.

* * *

It's my last Thanksgiving in the apartment—as a resident, as least.

Don't ask me how I know that. I'm well aware that things could go wrong for me in the college application process, but they won't. I just _know _it. I mean, it would be super sucky to think that all the time I've spent working on leaving will amount to nothing. I talked to Mom and Luke and we agreed on a yearly budget for college. They were _very _generous, but, at the same time, it all depends on how generous colleges are with their scholarships this year, too. It can still not be enough for me to leave.

Whatever. I can't worry about that now. Amatis and Stephen will be here any minute with their baby, Mark, who is, like, two (or three?) years old. He may even be four. I don't know. I don't care about children all that much, to be honest, especially since being around them makes my mom feel compelled to give me a speech about how I'm _totally _having kids someday. Which I'm not.

I stay in my room until it's absolutely necessary for me to get out. As I hold Mark (because the adults, aka everyone but Stephen, who's driving back to Westchester, are drinking wine), my mom gives me The Speech. In front of everyone.

Can I say how excited I am to get the fuck out of New York?

After dinner, at around eight, I get a text from Isabelle. She asks if I wanna go over, but I'm so tired. Oh my God. And her house is so _far_. However, when she suggests going over to Sebastian's, 'cause he's all alone, I sober up and cave. He's way closer.

I get my coat and tell my mom I'm going out with Izzy before making my way into the streets.

We meet outside his apartment. He buzzes us in, incredibly happy to see familiar faces.

And then, when we walk in, we realize that he isn't, y'know, completely alone.

Because Jace is there.

In sweatpants.

Just like Seb.

And another girl.

"Are you guys eating take-out?" Isabelle asks. "On _Thanksgiving_?"

"Yup," Seb says. "Oh, and this is my girlfriend, Lily."

"Nice to meet you," I say, waving over at her. "Seb's been talking about you since the second he met you. Seriously."

She blushes. "Awww, you dork," she tells him.

He glares at me. "Lily, this is Clary, and that's Isabelle." He points to my best friend.

"Nice to meet you," Isabelle says to Lily. "You guys, this is such a depressing setup. I brought leftovers."

"Thank _God_," I say, sitting down on the same couch as Lily. "I just kind of bolted."

"That bad, huh?" Seb asks.

"It wasn't _terrible_. My mom was just giving me, you know, the baby speech, and I needed to get out."

"The speech?" he asks.

"Again?" Isabelle makes a face.

"Baby speech?" Jace raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah." I nod. I make my voice go higher, the way people do when they're mocking someone. "Clary, you're gonna have _sooooo _many children someday. You're just saying that you don't want any because you're only seventeen, and, well, you don't _know _what you want. You're gonna have a _huge _family. You'll see."

"In order to fully get why that speech sucks so hard, though, you need to know that Clary, like, hates kids. With a passion," Isabelle explains.

"Ha. Yeah. I went to her house last Thanksgiving, and she made me hold the only child there." Sebastian nods. "She hates kids."

"Well, kids are so gross!" I shudder. "And my mom insists that I'm pushing, like, a billion of them out of my lady parts."

"Babies do kind of suck," Jace says. "All they do is shit and cry."

"Right?! Ugh. I hate them."

"You need a beer," Seb says.

"Make that two," Jace tells him.

"Three!" Lily calls out.

"Well, you might as well bring me one," Isabelle says.

Soon enough, we're all holding beers, and Isabelle and I watch as Seb, Jace, and Lily divide up the Thanksgiving leftovers. The TV's playing in the background, but it's low enough that it's actually kind of nice.

"Why'd you wanna go out?" I ask Isabelle after a while. "I realize I never asked."

She shrugs. "Mom, Dad, and Max went out to walk, and I wanted to leave Magnus and Alec alone for their sexy time." She grins. "And, well, I wanted to get out of the house and do something, because I've just been thinking a lot about Simon."

Sebastian frowns. "And that's a bad thing?"

She shakes her head and smiles. "About _leaving _Simon, Seb."

"For college?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah. You know, we've been together for, like, three years or something, and he's just…" She trails off. "You know. _Everything_, basically."

"Yeah," I say. "But we've always said that we'd never let a boy tie us down to a place and limit what we can do."

"Yeah," she replies sadly. "I just wish I didn't love him so much."

"Well," Lily speaks up, "don't give up yet. I don't know you or Simon well—in fact, I don't know Simon at all—but don't worry about that stuff now. You don't even know where you're going yet, right?" Isabelle shakes her head. "And neither does he. So enjoy what you have now, and worry later."

"Wise words from the girl who still sleeps with a nightlight," Sebastian says.

She reaches over and smacks his arm. "You asshole!"

He grins. "Yes, but consider this: I'm _your _asshole."

I roll my eyes. "Dick move, Verlac."

She shakes her head, but I can see that she's fighting the urge to smile. "Real dick move," she agrees.

I smile. "Uh-huh. So, are you two also alone on Thanksgiving?" I look between her and Jace.

"Mom and her boyfriend are in Vegas," Jace says. "Setting an example, obviously."

"And I had lunch with my parents," Lily tells me. "But they had to go to Canada for some business thing, so now I'm here until they get back."

"I can't believe you guys didn't get a proper Thanksgiving dinner," Isabelle says, upset.

"Yeah, that really sucks." I make a face. "But at least your moms aren't giving you guys the baby speech."

"That's a definite plus," Lily says.

"Yeah." Jace's eyebrows go up. "As if I would ever want to be pregnant."

Isabelle throws a pillow at him. "_Hilaaaarious_, Jace."

"Is this the day people I barely know attack me?" he asks Sebastian. "Because I'm never coming over again."

Sebastian raises his hands in surrender. "This is all Clary."

"It's all Isabelle! She attacks everyone," I say. "Just be glad you aren't the one who finds her going at it with her boyfriend _on your bed_."

"Ew!" Lily exclaims.

"That's ridiculous," Jace says.

"Oh, please," Isabelle replies. "Like Clary's never made out with anyone on my bed before."

"No! That would be so gross, dude."

"Oh, come on. Not even when we all went to my house to study for finals?"

"No! Ew! We had common sense," I reply.

Isabelle looks over at Sebastian. "Come on, Verlac, give me a hand here. It's not that bad, right?"

"It's not _bad_," he says. "Just gross."

"Especially since _both _of them are my best friends." I glare at her. "Not cool, Lightwood. It's been three years."

"You're gonna miss it when you move away to a different state."

"Whyyyy are you bringing this up?"

"You're moving for sure?" Sebastian asks.

"Well," I say, "I'm definitely not staying."

"So it's not a sure thing?"

"She'll kill you, Seb," Isabelle tells him.

"Where are you applying?" Lily asks.

"Uh, RISD, The School of the Art Institute in Chicago, Cal Arts, Virginia Commonwealth University, NYU, SUNY, Maryland Institute College of Art, School of Visual Arts, BU, The New School, SCAD…" I trail off. "A lot."

"Eleven schools?" Seb whistles. "You really wanna get out, huh?"

I shrug. "Ever since I was a kid."

"So you don't like New York?" Lily asks.

I shake my head. "New York is probably my favorite place ever. I just wanna get away from, like, my family and stuff."

"Do they suck?" she asks.

"Very much."

"Luke isn't that bad," Isabelle says. "That's her stepdad. But her mom is a real piece of work. And her brother…has a very nice ass. And is also an ass."

"Oh my God, Isabelle."

"What? It's true."

"Still the top ass, huh?" Sebastian asks.

"Well, you know. Aside from Clary in last year's Halloween costume."

"I hate you, Lightwood."

"Well," Sebastian says. "You were flattered at first."

"It's too much pressure, really."

"The top ass?" Jace asks. "What?"

"Simon and Isabelle rank people's butts," I say. "And, well, first it was my brother's, and then Seb's, and I don't know the rest."

"But then Halloween happened," Isabelle continues, "and now Clary's first, and then Jon, and then Seb."

"Unbelievable." Sebastian shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm after Jon. He _sucks_."

"I just can't believe I'm so close in ranking to my _brother_."

"Well," Lily says, "maybe the good butt genes run in the family."

I groan, and she high-fives Isabelle. "I hate you all."

We spend the rest of the night talking about random things, and I learn more about Jace here and now than I have in the past few years. Seriously. It's like that first day over again, when I was just taking in all this new information related to him. That's how this feels. Because that's how I know that he plays the piano like a motherfucker, loves to read, isn't playing soccer in college (unless it's for fun), is studying Business Administration (or something along those lines, he said, depending on the college). I learn so much about him in one day that, when we're leaving, I'm kind of in a daze.

"You okay?" Isabelle asks once we're outside.

I nod. "Yeah. Just…surprised."

"Oh?"

"At how normal Jace is being. How much I know about him now."

"You don't know anything," she reminds me.

"Yeah, but it feels weird to know the things I do."

She nods. "Don't overthink it, okay?"

"I won't," I say. "I'm just overwhelmed. Happy, but overwhelmed."

She shoves her hands into her pockets. "Do you wanna be his friend?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't know if it's too late for that."

She nods. We stop, because I have to get to the subway station, which is in the opposite direction she's heading. "Well, you did great. I don't know why this is happening, but you guys seem like you're getting along, and that's all you can ask for."

"Yeah." I nod. "I'll text you once I'm home."

"Me too," she says, giving me a hug. "See you on Saturday."

I give her a smile and walk towards the station. On my way, I plug in my headphones and start listening to music.

_Something has changed within me_

_Something is not the same_

_I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game_

_Too late for second-guessing_

_Too late to go back to sleep_

_It's time to trust my instincts_

_Close my eyes and believe_

As I walk through the cold New York streets, I realize that I don't know if I want to be Jace's friend. Would that make things unnecessarily difficult for me? Would it make getting over him too hard? Would it make me like him again? Tonight was incredibly fun, but it doesn't erase the years I spent wondering if I'd just absolutely fucked a person up by doing what I thought was best for myself. It doesn't. And he isn't acknowledging that, either, so, even though I'm over him, it doesn't mean I can bring myself to forget everything either.

Yes, we click. We connect. Always. Tonight felt natural and fun and great, but I can't be friends with someone who is inexplicably okay after having hated me for so long. I'm not gonna demand answers—he won't give them to me—but it's something to consider.

_I'm through accepting limits_

'_Cause someone says they're so_

_Some things I cannot change_

_But 'til I try, I'll never know_

_Too long I've been afraid of_

_Losing love I guess I've lost_

_Well, if that's love_

_It comes at much too high a cost_

The Glee cast's version of "Defying Gravity" is one of my favorites. I really, really love it. The lyrics "well, if that's love/it comes at much too high a cost" have been stuck in my head for ages, because I feel like it's a message that life has been trying to get to me forever. And, lately, I've been getting it. Ever since the summer, I've been able to understand what it means.

And, I'm not gonna lie, it _sucks_. It absolutely sucks to realize that the person you loved for so long isn't the person you thought they were. But I just realized that I can't do anything about it. I can just, you know, fall out love and respect that and not torture myself over things I can't control.

And that's that.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	32. The Anchor and the Wings

_Hey, guys! So, first off, this chapter is finally on time! Yay! Shoutout to my homegirl spikeyhairgood for updating this for me while my laptop is weird as shit. Also, of course, thanks to my wonderful beta, IWriteNaked, and my friends, clarissadele, DeathCabForMari, and LuckyAsLockhart, because all of you guys are amazing and great and thank you for everything._

_To my wonderful musical guest: I haven't had time to listen yet, which sucks, but it's a priority. I always love checking out new music, but I haven't had the chance to do anything lately. :( I'll definitely get to them soon though! Thank you for your recs, and, as always, you're welcome to make more. :) _

_This chapter is kind of the one you've been waiting for? It's a big one. I hope you like it._

* * *

_And honestly I have been begging for answers_

_That you and only you can give to me._

_My voice crying loud,_

_I've been crying for days now,_

_And as I start to run, I stop to breathe._

_And I was nearly scared to death_

_Of why you left in paragraphs_

_The words were nearly over us_

_You stop and turn and grab your bags_

_..._

_As hours move to minutes_

_And minutes take longer to break_

_I will be desperately awaiting_

_When my tongue won't fall apart_

_And we've been sitting here for hours_

_All alone and in the dark_

_.._

_So let me think of how to word it_

_Is it too soon to say 'perfect'?_

"You Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground, I'll Be The Wings That Keep Your Heart In The Clouds" by Mayday Parade

* * *

After finals, the upperclassmen have a rather…unique activity.

It was, I guess, suggested by the activities committee. Which Isabelle is in, or something. Anyway, I've known about this for a while. Basically, we're gonna have a kind of lockdown, but it's gonna be a twelve-hour thing, and there are gonna be movies, snacks, activities, and the whole school will be open for people to sleep in.

Basically, people are gonna have a _ton _of sex.

"Clary, you have to go."

"Nope."

"Clary."

"Not a chance."

"Cla-ree."

I cross my arms over my chest. "No way."

Isabelle looks like she's one step away from eating me alive, but I don't care. I am so not going.

I don't wanna go to that. I mean, what am I gonna do? I don't even _like _the people I go to school with. Why would I do this to myself?

"Clary, look." She kneels down beside me. "We're graduating in six months, okay? Six months. And then we won't see each other much," she says. "We will barely see each other, actually. And I want to spend time with you, because you're my best friend, but, oh my God, fucking shit, you make this _really hard_."

I grin. "_Fine_. Fine. I will do this stupid thing with you. But you owe me."

"Always."

Permission slips are due tomorrow, hence the sudden begging. Once Isabelle leaves my home (we were having a study session for our Spanish final), I chill for a while until my mom comes back from the grocery store. I ask her to sign the permission slip.

"Finally," she says. "You're participating in something."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah." I take the paper from her hands. "Let me know when dinner's ready."

"Sure thing," she tells me. "Are Sebastian and Isabelle gone?"

Sebastian left an hour ago, I tell her, and then say that she missed Isabelle by, like, ten minutes. After she's done asking me about all of that, I go into my room and torture myself, because finals.

* * *

It's the day of the lockdown, and I'm hiding.

The chemistry classroom is dark, much like the rest of the rooms, but the difference is that I'm safe. I can be alone here. People are too scared to come here and do whatever they do because there are glass containers and breakable things all over. So I sit on the floor, in a corner, dump my sleeping back beside me, take out my headphones and phone, and I play Mr. Jump, because it is literally the most addicting thing on the planet.

I don't know how long I sit there like that, letting thoughts run through my head absently as I attempt to pass different levels on the game. Well, more like the third one, but still. I'm just about to pass it (so close to the end!) when someone taps my shoulder.

I jump a little, and Mr. Jump tells me that I completed 92% of the level. So _freaking_ close. I look up at the culprit, surprised to find that it is, of course, the mighty Mr. Wayland. Of course.

"You made me lose," I tell him.

Even though he probably doesn't know what I'm talking about, he says, "I'm sorry."

I wave him off. "What do you want?"

"Can I sit?"

I hesitate for a second before nodding. "Spill already, will you?"

He sighs and sits down beside me. Our backs are to the wall, and he rests his head against it. "I'm an idiot."

"Well, yeah."

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a half-smile. "Like, the biggest. On the planet."

"Yup."

"I know that you've had a lot to say," Jace says. "And I know that I didn't let you."

I sigh. It comes out all shaky, which I hate, but whatever. I try to ignore the effect he has on me, like how my heart is pounding so intensely that I can actually hear it. I'm pathetic. One little interaction in a one-on-one setting and I'm already like this. "And then I gave up."

He nods. "And then you gave up."

"You made everything so complicated," I say. "I mean, trust me, I get that I didn't do the right thing. I get it. I've spent the last four years agonizing over it. But I tried to tell you that when you got back. I tried to explain everything to you, and you just shut me out, and I couldn't do it anymore." I don't know why this is all rushing out of me. He doesn't really deserve an explanation, but my heart wants him to have one anyway. "I spent all of my time fighting, and I knew that I couldn't win this one. I gave it up." _I gave you up_, I want to say, but I don't.

"I know." His voice is soft. I haven't heard him like this in years. Literally. "I don't think there are enough apologies in the world to show you how sorry I am. Really. I wish I could turn myself inside out for you, because that's the only way you could see it."

This is kind of rehearsed—as in, he's thought about it before—but it makes me want to melt anyway. Goddamn it. I need to keep it together.

"What made you feel sorry?"

He looks up at me. "What?"

"You know. What made you realize that you were sorry? That you were wrong? Why now?"

He shrugs. "Honestly? I don't know. I just kind of..." He trails off for a second, but I know he isn't done, so I wait. "I've been fooling myself this entire time, thinking I wouldn't do anything for you. In the summer, when you went to Sebastian's? It killed me not to be there for you. And then we fought, and I just wanted to slap some sense into myself, but I couldn't make myself go back." He shakes his head. "I'm an idiot, Clary. The biggest one ever."

"Yeah," I tell him. "You are." I pick at the sleeves of my sweater. "I mean, do you know—" I steady myself. My chest feels heavy. "Do you know how many times I've needed you? How many times I just wanted to go over to you and ask you to be there for me? But I couldn't."

"Because I was an idiot."

I nod. "Because you were an idiot."

He props his knees up so that they're touching his chin, and I do the same. We're both wearing black Converse, I realize.

"I know that there's no excuse for how I behaved."

"There isn't," I say.

"I know. But I guess I should explain myself."

Warily, I nod. "I guess you should."

"Okay." He picks at his jeans. "Look, when I was little, my dad left me and my mom, and it was really sudden. My whole life has been full of shitty guys pissing all over my mom, who then proceeded to get even more shit-faced than usual." He faces me for a second before staring at his knees. "I hate it when people leave. I don't react well to it, okay? So, when you left, I just told myself, you know, that I wouldn't go back. No matter what. Because I've seen what happens when people go back to those who leave, and it's never good. And I didn't wanna be that, so I just kind of told myself that I needed to hate you, because that was the only way I'd get out of this relatively unscathed. That's the way it'd hurt the least."

Well, I already felt terrible, but this is just a whole different thing. I remind myself that I had a good reason to do what I did, but tears prick at the backs of my eyes, and I rest my head on my knees and close my eyes.

"I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty," he says in a rush, probably sensing my current mood. "I just—I need you to know. I didn't just do it for no reason. I did it to protect myself." I don't say anything, and he shakes his head again. "I just wish I knew how we got so close so fast. I mean, you had this grip on me, and I couldn't shake it off. And you're different," he adds. "You're different than I thought you were. And I'm still—" He shakes his head. "I still want to be in your life. I still want—and, honestly, _need_—you to be in my life."

Oh dear God. I've been waiting for these words forever, and I always had a reply prepared, but now I'm kind of stunned into silence. Because Jace wants me in his life. He actually wants to let me back in again. And, well, I'm kind of overwhelmed by how much I want him to be in my life too.

Because, yeah, I spent a lot of time telling myself that I was over him. And it isn't so much that I was over him, I realize, as it was that I got over _it_. I stopped feeling so damn guilty and started focusing on taking care of myself. I started to realize that I was just as hurt and sad and fucked up as he was because of this whole thing.

And I stopped being so sorry that it consumed me.

But I never really stopped loving—or wanting—him.

"Jace, when I—when I told you that I couldn't talk to you anymore—when I left you—" I can't even speak. There is a knot stuck in my throat with the words left unsaid over the years. I know I'm gonna cry. "Everything I've done has been to protect myself. Same as you. And you know—you've seen how my mom can be. When I was thirteen, I was terrified of her. Like, I'm pretty sure I had nightmares. I was just...I was so, so scared."

"I know."

"No." I shake my head. "No, you don't. I was terrified of what would happen, Jace. She didn't even seem like a person back then."

"So what changed, then? Why'd you start fighting back?"

"Right. Well, I didn't want to let her dictate how I was gonna live my life. After the thing with you happened, I just had the worst time, you know? My friends didn't get it, and my brother made fun of the idea of us in the first place, and my mom—well, you know." At his nod, I continue. "I just figured I had nothing left to lose."

"Clary," he whispers. "Why didn't you call anyone? Say anything?"

"Because she has this way of manipulating things." I shake my head. "She blames them on me, and people pity her because, wow, her husband died before her daughter was born. What a shame. She's doing the best she can. So," I continue, "it never does any good. Whenever I say anything that makes her look less than perfect, she says I'm exaggerating. When I tell her that I'm leaving for college, she asks why I'm so desperate to leave." I bite my bottom lip. "It wouldn't work."

I look over at Jace, whose eyes are closed. His fists are clenched at his sides. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

My heart is heavy in my chest. I want to reach over and comfort him, but he should be comforting me. Though I guess this is his way of showing me he's sorry. By hating himself. By showing how full of regret he is.

Tentatively, with my heart pounding against my ribcage, I reach over and take his left fist, the one closest to me, and hold it in my hands. God, we are so screwed. So, so screwed.

"It's not your fault," I say. I don't meet his gaze. I don't look up to see if his eyes are even open. I just focus on his fist. I take it apart, finger by finger, until it's just his hand. I scoot closer and pull it onto my lap. I trace patterns into it. I feel like everything inside of me is still and heavy and waiting, anxious, the way I feel before I'm about to give an oral presentation.

He intertwines our fingers and squeezes my hand. "I fucked up so badly. I should've been there for you. I should've—"

"You did fuck up," I say softly. "You should've been there. But you weren't." I squeeze back. "But you're here now. And I know we need to work on a lot of things, but I wouldn't be opposed to that. Even if it means that we're just friends."

His silence makes me look up. He's looking at me in a way he never has before. He is wearing everything—his entire heart—on his face. "I can't ask you to give me another chance. After everything I've done, and after I've hurt you—"

"You didn't ask," I reply. "I offered."

Now he's the one that pulls our hands into his lap. He strokes my knuckles with his thumb. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too," I say. And then, after a beat: "So, is that a yes?"

"I'll do anything," he says simply. "Just say the word."

I let go of his hand, and I feel the absence of him; it shakes me to the core. I look at him, and it hits me how beautiful he is. I mean, he's a lot of things. Handsome. Hot. Attractive. Beautiful. He isn't adorable, no, but I'm cool with the other four adjectives.

We sit cross-legged, facing each other, and the pain in his eyes makes me look over at him. I know how guilty he feels for leaving me alone—or refusing to be there—through some of my hardest times. As he should, I think. But we can't move on if I'm not honest.

"Look, what you did was crappy. Plain and simple. And it hurt every step of the way."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"But," I continue, "I forgive you. That doesn't make it okay, but I do forgive you. Because I feel it too."

"It?"

"Don't push it," I say lightly. "I've never—"

"Not even Sebastian?"

I shake my head. "Not even close."

"Well, I've just been casually dating and sleeping around, so me neither."

"Is that supposed to impress me?"

He shakes his head. "Just telling you the truth."

I nod. "So how many—"

"A lot." He hesitates. "You?"

"Just Sebastian."

He nods. We sit there in silence, looking at our laps, and then he says, "Thank you."

"What for?" I ask.

"Forgiving me."

"I haven't—"

"Forgotten?" He shakes his head. "Me neither."

We go back to how we were sitting before, with our backs to the wall, and I turn to face him. I grab his hand again. I'm trying to make up for lost time or whatever. I don't know. This is all happening really fast, but it doesn't feel like it. Maybe because I've been waiting four years for this very thing.

"You don't need to let it consume you," I say. "Just don't let it happen again."

"Only if you don't leave me again." He says it lightly, but I can tell there's a heavy undertone to it.

I lean into him, our hands on my thigh. "I don't plan on it."

* * *

We have to leave the door unlocked as part of the lockdown rules (the irony isn't lost on either one of us), but we still manage to make it pretty private.

We set up our sleeping bags in the middle, where there are no windows from the hallway to the classroom. The blinds were already shut, which is a bonus. We're not gonna do anything, but still. We play music from my iPod and lie down beside each other.

"18" by One Direction comes on, and he raises an eyebrow. "Really? Still?"

"Is there a problem?"

_So kiss me where I lay down_

_My hands pressed to your cheeks_

_A long way from the playground_

"No, ma'am."

_And I have loved you since we were eighteen_

_Long before we both thought the same things_

"I need to tell you something," I say.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "I saw you once. In Westchester."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. At a Barnes and Noble."

"How long ago?" he asks.

"I think it was the summer between freshman and sophomore year."

He doesn't speak for a while. I'm beginning to think he's not gonna answer when he asks, "What did you do?"

The memory is still so embarrassing. "I kind of ran."

He sounds amused. "Where to?"

"Well, you were on the second floor, near the stairs, so I ran down to the first floor and literally sat in the farthest corner. Next to the back exit."

"Oh my God."

"I was so nervous, I was shaking." I smile.

But he doesn't. "Clary..."

"It was over two years ago," I tell him.

"Jesus," he says. "How long did you hide out for?"

"I don't remember, but it was a while. I had to wait for my aunt and mom."

"Ahhh."

I turn to look at him. "What're you thinking?"

"Nothing."

"Your head is empty?"

"Weirdly."

"Okay, well, how are you feeling?"

He smiles. "That's a loaded question."

"How so?"

"I'm feeling a lot of things."

"Like...?" I prompt.

"I'm happy. Really happy. But worried. And still upset. And a little tired."

"Wimp. It's only midnight."

"It is so not an all-nighter, though."

"But who sleeps during these things?!" I ask, flabbergasted. _Focus_, I tell myself. "I get what you mean about being worried. And upset, too. I feel heavy, but I also feel light."

He nods. "Me too." He pauses. "Is that a _Wicked_ song?"

"Defying Gravity" plays in the background. _Wicked_ is my favorite play in the history of the universe, and this is my favorite song from the play. Seriously, I love it. I own a physical version of the soundtrack and everything.

"Yup."

He considers this. "Let's go watch _Wicked_ on Sunday."

"Dude, tickets are insane for that."

"I'll buy them."

"I can't ask you to do that."

He mimics my tone from earlier. "I'm offering."

"Oh my God." I shake my head. "You're insane."

"But you like _Wicked_, right?"

"I adore _Wicked_."

"Then Sunday it is."

I shake my head. "Crazy." Before he can speak, I say, "And, if you make a joke about being crazy for you, you're out."

"Damn," he mutters. "There goes the mental list I was making."

"Dork."

He smiles and says, in an exaggerated voice, "I'm a dork for _you_, babe."

I scrunch up my nose. "Gross."

"What?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

He smiles. "It's because your argument has no substance."

"Oh, it has substance. I'll show you substance."

His smile turns into a grin. "You're the biggest dork in the room. And we're in a Chemistry classroom."

"There's no one else in here, dumbass."

"Oh, I should've been clearer. I meant in the history of this classroom. Ever."

"Very clever."

"That I am."

I've missed talking to him like this. I could bicker with Sebastian, sure, and I still sometimes do, but I miss doing it with Jace. Then again, I miss a lot of things with Jace.

But now we're working on things. Together. And I know it isn't gonna be easy, but it feels so right. Like pieces clicking into place. Like puzzle pieces fitting together. The right melodies and harmonies. Warm drinks in the cold. That's how I feel with him.

We lie there in the silence, listening as the songs play in the dark. At some point, I take his hand, and he turns to face me. I've never really spooned with anyone (aside from Seb, but it never really lasted for a while, because we never fit together right like that), but this feels nice. Comfortable. Warm.

He buries his face in the nook of my neck, and, when he exhales, I shiver.

"You okay?" he asks. "Because I can—"

"I'm good," I say, repositioning myself.

"Clary." His voice sounds strained. "Could you please stop moving?"

"Why would you—oh. Right. Oops."

His voice is muffled when he says, "It's okay," since his face is buried in the nook of my neck again. "You know, I've never had a friend who spooned with me."

"I'll ask Sebastian why he never spooned with you," I say.

He sighs. "It's because of Lily. Always getting between us."

"You and Sebastian are meant to be. I'll help you fight for him."

"You're an amazing friend, Clary Fray."

I smile, and I feel him return it. We stay like that for a while, the music playing in the background. There are a lot of things we need to figure out. It'll be a while, I think, before we both stop acting like we're trying to avoid stepping on glass around each other. Like we're walking on a tightrope. But we're gonna get there.

I think we'll always be scared of the things that made this fall apart in the first place. I'll always be a little scared of my mom fucking with me enough to make this end and of him being cold towards me, just like he'll always be scared of me leaving. I don't think that's ever gonna go away entirely; it's not in the fabric of who we are. We don't let things go.

But it'd be ridiculous to be people without fearing something. Fears come with everything, new and old, and we just have to learn to deal. And we will. God, we will. Maybe someday we'll wake up, and we'll be together, and we won't be as scared as we are now, and we'll wonder why we let such a silly little thing stop us from being happy for a while longer.

Right now, though, I'm just glad we took a step closer to that someday.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	33. Bright

Hey, guys! So it's been a crazy week. A lot has happened since my last update, so I almost forgot that today was Monday and that Monday meant MS update day (thank you to LuckyAsLockhart for reminding me and for uploading this!) (**LuckyAsLockhart: hi! *waves***). Anyway, thanks to my lovely beta, IWriteNaked, for your amazing comments and the time you dedicate to this story. I love your face and stuff. Thanks to spikeyhairgood (because you're a sassy lil shit and I love you), DeathCabForMari (because you always kiss out on things, but I love you anyway), and to clarissadele (because of your "omfg" comment after the FS thing). I love all of you guys.

To my Musical Anon: I finally got the chance to listen to all the songs you recommended! I love your taste in music oh my goddd. I love Neon Trees, so, of course, I fell in love with Sins of My Youth, and I loved Symptomatic and Endtapes and Breakers and Ways to Go just the same. As always, I definitely welcome more suggestions!

To the person who asked me about IWriteNaked's update: If IWriteNaked is not my username (which, spoiler: it isn't), then I will definitely not be able to tell you when the next update is. So. Sorry if this is rude, but I consider your comment both hilarious and infuriating, because I! Don't! Know! And I don't know what would make you think that I would. Ash doesn't have a set update schedule, so it's going up whenever she's ready for it to. Please don't ask me when other people are updating.

Thanks to all of you for 600 reviews (holy crap!) and for being so passionate about this story and whatnot. You're amazing, and I love you. Hope you like this chapter!

* * *

I think the universe is on my side

Heaven and Earth have finally aligned

Days are good, and that's the way it should be

You sprinkle stardust on my pillowcase

It's like a moonbeam brushed across my face

Nights are good, and that's the way it should be

You make me sing oh, la, la, la

You make a girl go oh oh

I'm in love, love

Did you see the shooting star tonight?

Were you dazzled by the same constellation?

Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me?

I think you and the moon and Neptune got it right

'Cause now I'm shining bright

"Bright" by Echosmith

* * *

"Aaaaaand…done!" He swivels the chair around so that he's facing me.

"The last one?"

"The last goddamn college application has been sent out, yes."

"Yay!" I clap. "I'm very happy for you."

Jace grins. "Thank you, Ms. Fray."

"You're very welcome, Mr. Wayland. Which ones did you end up applying to, anyway? I can't believe I didn't ask before."

He props his feet up on his desk. "UChicago, UPenn, Northwestern, UCLA, USC, Drexel, Penn State, BU, NYU, UIUC, Loyola in Chicago, and the SUNYs and CUNYs I felt like selecting." He shrugs.

"You applied to more schools than I did," I say, amazed. "How is that even possible?"

He shrugs. "I wanna have options. By the way," he adds, "SAIC is February 15th, right?"

I applied early action to a bunch of schools, but I want SAIC the most. I get my notification on the 15th of February, and I'm dying. "Yup."

"You're getting in," Jace assures me. "Your portfolio kicked ass, and you have amazing scores, and you finished the semester with all As. You'll be okay."

"Ughhh, I'm scared."

"I know." He stands up and sits beside me on the bed. "But you'll get out of New York, okay?"

I look into his eyes and nod. "Okay," I say softly.

Sometimes, when he looks at me like this, it's hard to just be his friend. I want to do more. I want to kiss his super soft-looking lips, like I've been dreaming of doing for ages, and I want to know him in a different way. It's been nice, I guess, knowing him as a friend, but I want more. I want to know him.

But I can't. I know that it would be incredibly stupid to step on the gas and take this as fast as it will go. I want to skip the billion processes we have to go through to fix what we've done to each other—and, most importantly, ourselves—during the past four years, but it would leave us with a messy, unstable relationship, and I would rather take my time to end up with something amazing than rush through things for something that will be over before it starts. He's worth the wait.

But, ugh, do I want to kiss him.

That doesn't mean that I don't get frustrated, or that I don't get sad, or that I've forgotten about the pain I was in for four years. I will never, ever forget that. I won't forget how he didn't let me have a voice. How he made me drown in my guilt for years. But I also know that I made him face his worst fear, and that we, as humans, don't react well to that kind of confrontation, especially when it's for the first time in a long time, and especially when it feels like the worst kind of betrayal.

I look away from him and bite my lip. "What movie do you wanna watch?"

"I don't know. The Addams Family?"

My eyes widen. "You like that movie?"

"I adore that movie."

I resist the urge to kiss him, my mind flashing back to junior year's Halloween and my conversation with Sebastian about this very issue. Instead, I just nod. "I'll go make kettle corn?"

"I'll set up the movie," he says.

We end up on the bed, sitting next to each other, our legs touching from time to time, and a bowl of kettle corn wedged between us. I feel so damn content, so relaxed. This is a time of change. I mean, my whole future is ahead of me, and it could go a whole lot of different ways. And it applies to him. And to college. And to everything.

I've never been one to show patience for that kind of stuff, but I find myself feeling like I can wait. Being with him, seeing him laugh…I couldn't bear it if a piece of paper tears us apart.

I just got him back.

But we have a few months, and things will be okay.

* * *

Sometimes, when I'm really stressed and I have a hard time sleeping, I remember when Jace and I went to see Wicked the Sunday after the lockdown.

He wasn't kidding about getting those tickets. I mean, seriously. I hadn't told Mom about him being back or anything yet (I know, I know, I suck), so I just told her I was going out with Isabelle. She'd gone out that day for something, so I was able to change without her asking me why I was dressing up just to hang out with Isabelle.

It was cold outside—it was December, and it was snowing, and I was dying—so I wore a long-sleeved burgundy dress that reached the middle of my thighs. It's made of a thick material, so it wasn't too bad, but I still wore my black coat over it, as well as black tights and black ankle boots. We went to the 7pm showing, and it was dark out, and there was snow on the ground, so I'm pretty sure my feet ended up soaked. I think I got a cold afterwards, too. But, as we made our way to the Gershwin theater, after having crossed from the east to the west side of the city, laughing the whole way there, I didn't even think about my soaked feet, or the fact that I was definitely getting in trouble if I ever got caught. I didn't care.

We watched Wicked, which Jace had, surprisingly, never seen—unless you count him seeing it when he was three, anyway, but he doesn't remember that. So I mostly watched him take it all in. I watched him look at the stage with a strange sense of wonder on his face. He clapped as insanely as the rest of us at the end of "Defying Gravity." And, at the end of the play, we both stood up and clapped our hearts out, and I felt my heart swell at the thought of enjoying the best play ever with him.

We went back out to the cold streets. We didn't say anything for a while as we walked to the subway station. We walked through Times Square, watching as freezing tourists took pictures, as people carried shopping bags carefully as they threaded through the crowd.

"So." I looked up at Jace. "What did you think?"

He smiled at me. "You know what I thought. I could feel you watching me the whole time."

"Yeah," I told him. "But I wanna hear you say it."

Jace shook his head and chuckled. "Fine. Okay. I loved it."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm." He nodded. "I loved 'Defying Gravity', of course, and I loved Glinda. She was my favorite. And I just liked that it wasn't boring, you know?"

I nodded back at him. "It's why I like it too. It's engaging."

"Exactly!"

"And the costumes are badass."

"That they are."

"I'm thinking that we should go watch something else sometime," I said to him. "You know, like Book of Mormon or something. Something fun."

"I'm always up for doing fun things with you."

"Good."

The two of us made our way down the subway station side-by-side. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat; the urge to hold his hand was too much for me to handle, to be honest.

After we were already on the train, I looked at him. It took just one look for me to finally gather up the courage to tell him what I'd been thinking for a while. "I'm gonna talk to my mom about you, you know. And I want you to meet her."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that a good idea?"

"It'll have to be." I squared my shoulders. "I don't want her to judge you without knowing you. If she ends up not liking you anyway, then that's fine, you know? I won't leave you because of her." I sighed. "But I do want her to know that you're my friend. And that her opinion doesn't matter anymore."

Jace examined me for a second before nodding. "Okay. Let me know when you want me to be there."

I rested my head on his shoulder. "Are you scared?" I asked him, my eyes trained on the floor.

He sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, but I'm not scared for the reasons you think."

"Then why are you scared?"

"Because I don't want her to hurt you," he told me.

I lifted my head. I wanted so badly to do something—to kiss his cheek or his lips or whatever—but instead I just took out my iPod and handed him a headphone. "Here."

"Okay," he said, putting it on.

I wanted this to be pretty good, so I scrolled through my iPod and found a song I loved. "Cecilia and the Satellite" came on, and I relaxed against him.

I lock myself in a hotel room

Been waiting all night for the walls to move

I've loved some girls that I barely knew

I made some friends and I lost some too

Crashed my car, I was seventeen

My mother in the seat riding next to me

The things I've learned from a broken mirror

How a face can change when a heart knows fear

Through all the things my eyes have seen

The best by far is you

My heart was a mix of calm and anxious. I wondered if our tastes differed now. I knew that we use to like pretty much the same music, but what if he grew out of what he listened to before?

I've café crawled through Amsterdam

Been around the world in a punk-rock band

And I've seen London, and I've played Japan

I've been knocked down, I got up again

For all the places I have been

I'm no place without you

I felt his hand reaching to hold mine and looked at him, letting him know that it was okay. Our hands were barely touching, but we listened to the song like that, neither one of us moving.

If I could fly

Then I would know

What life looks like from up above and down below

I'd keep you safe

I'd keep you dry

Don't be afraid, Cecilia

I'm the satellite

And you're the sky

For all the things my hands have held

The best by far is you

We kept listening to the song. I glanced over at him to gauge his reaction. He seemed to like it, which made me happy. I looked down, smiled, and then looked back up, my eyes staring at our reflections on the other side of the subway.

The rest of my music library was on shuffle, and I just let it be. Today, I don't even remember what the hell played after that song. I just know that the two of us sat there, hands held together, until his stop came along.

"Text me when you're home," he told me. "I had a lot of fun with you tonight, Clary."

The train was lurching to a stop, so I smiled and told him, "I will. And me too, Jace."

I watched him go, my heart pounding. I kept listening to music with a stupid smile on my face.

I got home to a note from Mom, saying that she and Luke were out on a date. I walked into my room, changed out of my clothes, and texted Jace.

Clary: I'm home. :)

Jace: Good. I wanted to tell you that I had a lot of fun tonight.

Clary: You said that already.

Jace: I know. I thought it was worth repeating.

I smiled despite myself.

Clary: It was definitely nice to hear it being said twice.

I looked over at the clock. I wanted so badly to ask him to come over, but Mom could show up at any second, and I couldn't mess this up.

Clary: My mom's out, but I'm gonna talk to her about you when she gets back.

Jace: When that happens, send me a text to let me know how you are. I can be there as soon as you need me to.

I sent a thank you message with a few heart emojis.

And that's where I stop thinking. Whenever I have trouble sleeping, I run through the night, but I stop there.

Because I never want to remember conversations with my mother.

She and Luke got home at around midnight that night, an hour after I'd gotten home.

"We need to talk," I said.

Luke frowned. "Should I be here for this?"

I shrugged. "If you want. It's mostly an issue between the two of us, though."

He sighed. "I'll be in the room if you need me."

Mom looked worried, but she sat down on the couch at my command. "What's wrong, Clary?"

I took a breath. I knew that this conversation could get out of hand very quickly, especially considering the way she acted towards the subject of Jace in the first place, but I also knew that this was incredibly important to me.

"I need you to let me talk, okay? I'm gonna say a lot of things right now, but I need you to let me say it."

"Okay." She repositioned herself. "Tell me."

"Mom, do you remember Jace? You know, the guy I talked about, the one—"

"I remember," she said.

I'm sure that she remembered because of our argument back when he wasn't around, but whatever. "Right. So he's actually been back for a while," I told her. "About a year and a half, to be exact. And talking to you about it…it hasn't been necessary, because he and I weren't on the best of terms." I let out a breath. "You can imagine why, seeing as you made me stop talking to him forever in the span of, like, two seconds. Anyway." I shook my head. "The point is that, well, after a year and a half, we're finally getting it together. We talked a few days ago, and we want—" My breath caught in my chest, and I had to take a breath before continuing. "We want to be in each other's lives." Don't cry. "And I'm telling you this out of courtesy. I don't need your permission to be friends with people who make me happy in the most non-harmful ways possible."

"Clary—"

"I'm not done," I told her. "You and I are very different in a lot of ways, Mom. And I know that asking you this after I've told you that I don't need your approval is kind of weird, but I want you to meet him."

"Jace?" she asked.

"Yeah. It isn't because I'm still looking for you to approve of him," I reminded her. "I just—I want to give you the benefit of the doubt with him. This is hard for me to say, but I'm just gonna say it: you tore apart one of the most important things in my life, and I'm giving you a chance to give him a chance." I shook my head. "I don't want him to walk around knowing that someone who hasn't even met him hates his guts."

"I don't hate him," my mom said, giving me a look. "I just don't approve of him."

"Do you even remember anything about him?"

"I remember that he was no good for you."

"Based on what people said?"

"Which," she said, "is usually a good way to tell what a person is really like."

"No," I told her. "It isn't. It really isn't. And I'm giving you the chance to get to know him now, but the way you feel about him by the end of the day won't affect my decision." I squared my shoulders. "You're always telling me that I'm almost an adult, and that I should act like one. Well," I continued, "this is me acting like one. I'm going to be in his life, and he's gonna be in mine, whether you like it or not."

Mom crossed her legs. "I wish that I could tell you what to do sometimes, especially when it comes to this," she said. "But I can't. So, if you really want this, invite him over for dinner on Thursday."

I stood up. "Great. And Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Be nice to him."

* * *

That dinner, which happened in December, of course, went well.

Mom never really expected to like Jace. Like, at all. She kept making snide remarks as we got closer to the set date, but, when it came time for the actual dinner, she was actually surprisingly polite.

And they hit it off.

It was awkward at first. Jon and Luke were there, too, so they talked about soccer and college and family and whatever. Jon asked him the question I'd been wondering about since forever: "Why were you held back a year?"

Jace explained that it was kind of not his decision. He went to a really crappy school in Westchester, and ours was really advanced, so he asked to be held back a year in order to properly catch up on work. Also, this school required more credits to graduate than the public one, so he had to study a little while longer anyway. The whole thing also allowed him to explore soccer further and to really take advantage of New York, he said, but it was, ultimately, the smartest academic decision he could make.

It wasn't the dramatic reveal that people like Isabelle were hoping for, but I, personally, was relieved to hear that there wasn't some terrible story behind it, something that would make him look bad in front of my family. Not that I would care, but it certainly helped dinner run smoothly.

By the end of the night, everyone was happy with Jace. He complimented Mom's cooking, talked to her about art, and talked to Jon about soccer. He talked to Luke about books, too—Jace is a huge reader. I mean, I've known this about him forever—it was one of the reasons I liked him so much in the first place—but it's nice to remember that he could actually bond with other family members because of it too.

I walked with Jace to the entrance. The apartment wasn't very good, but it gave us a chance to talk. "How'd I do?" he asked.

"You were perfect," I told him with a smile. "I'll text you later."

"Okay. Thanks for dinner, by the way."

"Thanks for coming."

"Wouldn't have missed it."

I shook my head, still smiling. "Bye, Jace."

"See ya, Fray."

I made my way back to where Mom was standing in the kitchen. "So?"

She sighed. "So I may have been wrong. I don't know him well enough to tell you for sure, but he made a good impression on all of us tonight." She smiled. "He's welcome here anytime."

"I'm glad to hear that. Not," I added, "that it would've stopped me if you'd said otherwise, but it's nice."

Mom nodded. "I know. Luke and I will clean up."

I nodded and said goodnight. Once in my room, I texted Jace, briefing him on what Mom said.

I went to bed with a smile on my face that night.


	34. Everything Has Changed

_Hi, guys! I figured out how to update from my laptop, finally (because Safari was being a lil bitch, so I have to do it from Chrome now, basically). Anyway! I will be replying to your reviews next weekend, because I have two exams and a quiz this week, and I've been studying nonstop this weekend (and am not close to being done!). Thanks to my wonderful beta, IWriteNaked, for being amazing and wonderful and, along with DeathCabForMari, listening to me freaking out and helping me through everything. I love you guys. Also, thanks to spikeyhairgood (for being the best) and LuckyAsLockhart (I miss talking to you, and I will make up for the lack of communication soon!), as well as clarissadele. These thank yous are all over the place, but basically: I love you all. _

_Thanks to all of you for reading, and I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_'Cause all I know is we said hello  
__And your eyes look like coming home  
__All I know is a simple name  
__And everything has changed_

_All I know is you held the door  
You'll be mine and I'll be yours  
All I know since yesterday  
Is everything has changed _

_And all my walls  
Stood tall and painted blue  
But I'll take them down, take them down  
And open up the door for you_

_And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies  
The beautiful kind  
Making up for lost time  
__I just wanna know you better__  
_

_Know you better  
Know you better now  
__  
I just wanna know you  
__Know you  
__Know you_

"Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran

* * *

"Happy Valentine's Day!"

Someone comes up behind me and covers my eyes with their hands. Still, though, I recognize that voice—I'd recognize it anywhere.

"Hey, Jace." I turn around to face him, and his arms drop to his sides. "Happy Valentine's."

"Nervous?" he asks as we walk to Java Jones.

"I don't know how I'm gonna sleep tonight," I reply.

Tomorrow is February 15th, which is, of course, when I get my early action notification for SAIC. I know that there's more to the whole process than that. There's scholarships and need-based aid—which are, ultimately, the factors that will decide whether I get to get the hell out—but getting into this school is incredibly important to me.

So, of course, I'm dying.

Jace knows how important this is to me, which is why he offered to take me to Java Jones after school to take my mind off college crap.

"You're getting in," he assures me. "You will." He opens the door to Java Jones for me. "When do you get the notification, anyway?"

"Whenever the mail comes."

"Wait." He actually stops me. "It's not online?"

"Nope."

"Then how do you know they're not just mailing them out tomorrow? Or that they'll even get here?"

I shrug. "Their Twitter said they mailed them out during the week. And," I add, "I have a feeling that tomorrow is the day. Don't laugh."

He sighs. "I'm not laughing. Do you still want me to go over in the morning?"

I nod rapidly. "I can't do it by myself."

Jace nods. "But you'll be fine either way."

We finally make it to the front. He orders coffees and brownies for both of us, and we sit by the window.

"How's Isabelle?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I heard that Simon might be going to Stanford."

I shake my head. "He _applied_," I say. "Doesn't mean he's getting in, getting aid, and going. But she's—" I shake my head. "They're trying to make the best of what they have now, so they're ignoring the fact that they might not be together in a few months. I honestly don't know what that'd be like."

"Them not being together?"

I nod. "It's just always been the two of them and all, you know? Since the end of freshman year. And now we just don't know."

He stirs his coffee. "Clary," he tells me, "they're gonna be fine. I'm not a relationship expert or anything, but I don't think you could take away the way they look at each other."

I know what he means. "I hope you're right." I shift in my seat. "I'm just kind of glad that I don't have a boyfriend. I don't think I could handle that uncertainty."

He nods. "I get that. I don't think I could either."

I clear my throat. "So, what about you? Have you gotten into any other colleges?"

He shakes his head. "Not apart from Loyola. You'd be the first to know if I did."

I smile. "You know, you never told me what your top choice is."

"I don't have one," he says.

I shake my head. "Everyone has a top choice, Jace," I say matter-of-factly.

He shrugs. "Not me."

It seems a little weird to me, but I drop the subject. We start talking about Seb and Lily, who decided that they're both staying in New York—if not the city, then at least the state. I wonder how Seb can do it—consider staying in the city. Or even the state. I mean, he has so many painful memories here—his mother dying, his father treating him like shit all the time, being beaten up that one Halloween. I don't know how he can stand living in that house and breathing that same air. It takes me a lot to do it, and that's with the knowledge that I _will _get out as reassurance.

My phone vibrates with a text from Maia. Attached are two pictures, each of her wearing a different outfit. At the bottom, there's a third message: _What do I wear for my movie + dinner date with Bat?_

I tell her that the first option—jeans, a gray sweater, a coat, boots, and a beanie—is the best one. I mean, a dress isn't great when it's twenty degrees outside.

"Wanna go home?" Jace asks.

"No, I'm—" I look outside. "What time is it?" I frown. It's dark out.

"Seven."

"Yup. Let's go."

I regret setting foot outside immediately. I didn't come to school prepared for the weather to drop, so I just brought a light jacket. I wrap my arms around myself as we walk towards the station.

I feel Jace's arms around me suddenly, and I welcome his warmth, leaning into him.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he says.

"Shoot," I tell him.

"Seb and Lily are planning this road trip—a college trip—and they asked me if I wanted to come along. I said yes, and, well, they told me I could bring someone. So…" He pulls me aside so that we don't stand in the middle of the sidewalk like idiots. "Do you wanna come?"

_Hell yes, I do. _"I'd have to ask my mom and Luke," I say. "But I'd love to."

He grins. "Good."

I look up at him as we start walking again. "How long have you been keeping that in for?"

"About a week." He makes a face. "I didn't know how to ask."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I'm an idiot."

"No, you aren't."

"I guess I didn't want you to react in a bad way," he explains. "So I just didn't do it."

I nod. "And what prompted you to do it now?"

He sighs. "If you attacked me, people would see."

My smile turns into a grin. "I'd still kick your ass."

"Oh, I don't doubt that."

A gust of wind blows our way, and I want to die. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck."

"Here." He takes off his jacket. "You need it more than I do."

"Don't be weird."

"I'm not. You're freezing, and you're tiny."

I narrow my eyes at him. "What?"

"In the best way possible. Put it on."

We walk to the subway station like that. He still puts an arm around me to keep me kind of warm, I guess. His jacket definitely helps. It's huge on me, which I love. But my legs are still dying, because they're weak as shit.

"Come on," he says, leading me down the stairs and into the station. "Is it better in here?"

I nod. Still cold, but better. I take out my MetroCard and swipe it, and he does the same, and then the two of us walk towards our train.

As we wait for it, we stand near the subway map. Jace pulls out his iPhone to play Mr. Jump, which I totally got him into, and I watch as he struggles to pass level three. _Ha_. The same one he'd stopped me from passing when he (very rudely and suddenly) interrupted me during the lockdown. But that's okay, because I passed the level, became his friend, and got him into the game. So it all worked out.

When the train stops in front of us, we make our way in, managing to snatch seats near the door.

As always, I pull out my iPhone and hand him a headphone. We listen to music the whole way to my house, since he's insisting on dropping me off.

_Well, I came home  
__Like a stone  
__And I fell heavy into your arms  
__These days of dust  
__Which we have known  
__Will blow away with this new sun_

_But I'll kneel down  
__Wait for now  
__And I'll kneel down  
__Know my ground_

_And I will wait  
__I will wait for you_

I rest my head on his shoulder as we listen to one of my favorite songs.

_So break my step  
__And relent  
__Well, you forgave  
__And I won't forget_

The lyrics blur in my mind as I feel him wrap an arm around me. I close my eyes, exhaustion finally getting to me. It's been a sucky week, you know, with exams and all, and I'm just glad that I have moments like this one.

_Now I'll be bold  
__As well as strong  
__And use my head alongside my heart  
__So tame my flesh  
__And fix my eyes  
__A tethered mind freed from the lies_

I smile as the rest of the song plays. We're close to our stop now, but I know that we'll just walk while listening to music. It's a challenge, but it's one I actually like.

The next song is an old one. I remember listening to it when I first started talking to Jace, and then again a _lot _when we stopped talking, and it brings a smile to my face. I consider changing it, but I don't.

_I'm missing you so much  
__I'll say you died tonight  
__Just so I can get to you before the sun will rise  
__I know the signs are on and I feel this too  
__But none of that ever seems to matter when I'm holding you_

_And I'm wasting away, away from you  
__And I'm wasting away, away from you_

_What have I gotten into this time around  
__I know that I had sworn I'd never trust anyone again  
__But I didn't have to  
__You had me at hello_

I don't know why I start to think about this, but the thought that Jace and I will be far apart again for college hits me like a ton of bricks. Sure, nothing's certain yet, but what if he's in California and I'm in Chicago? Or what if he stays in New York and I'm in Georgia? I know that we're not together, but is it such a terrible crime for me to want to live wherever he lives? I know it's crazy, but I just can't imagine my world without him.

And it isn't because he's perfect or anything. God knows he isn't perfect. But even though he's stubborn and afraid and a whole lot of other things, he still makes me better. And he feels like home. After all these years, he feels like home.

We make our way outside, back into the cold.

"Fuck," I say.

"I didn't think you were alive in there," he tells me. "You look exhausted."

"That's because I _am _exhausted."

Jace sighs. "You need sleep."

"I always do."

Before we know it, we're in front of my building. "I'll come by in the morning, okay?"

"Mhmm." I have this insane urge to kiss him, but I don't. My hands itch at the absence of him, at the desire to just pull him down and kiss him like I've been dreaming of doing for the past four years. But I don't. I just smile up at him. "Bye, Jace."

He laughs. "Bye, Clary."

* * *

It's three in the morning, and I am freaking the fuck out.

After getting home at eight, I showered, drank some water, waited for Jace to get home, and then passed out at approximately nine o'clock. I felt like I could sleep forever, which was a relief. Of course, when I woke up fifteen minutes ago, I realized that my brain had been fucking with me, and that I'm definitely not going back to sleep.

I send Jace a text. _Is there any chance that you're awake right now?_

I decide to send him a message on Facebook, too. Just in case

**Clary Fray**

_Yo, Wayland. Please tell me you're awake._

I resist the urge from communicating with him via Twitter, because, yeah, it'd be creepy and weird. But I just _need _to talk to him. He's the only one who can calm me down.

He replies to my text about five minutes later, just as I'm about to consider dying. _Yeah, I'm up. What's wrong?_

I bite my lip. _I don't know. I can't sleep, and I'm scared of tomorrow._

Seconds later, I get another text from him. _Do you want me to come over?_

I do.

Forty minutes later, he tells me that he's downstairs. During those forty minutes, I cleaned my room, peed twice, and made my way downstairs with my key. I open the door for him without him needing to buzz in, because that'd wake up my parents. I lead him upstairs, praying that my mom doesn't hear me come in.

She doesn't. And neither does Luke.

I lock the door as quietly as possible while signaling to Jace to go into my room, just in case. I follow him in a few seconds later, locking the door after I'm inside. The light is off, but he's examining it anyway. He's still wearing his pajamas, though I've noticed he brought a bag.

"Why do you have a bag?"

"For when I wake up." He shrugs. "I know you're waiting until your mom and Luke leave tomorrow, but, well, it's just in case. And because I'm not wandering around New York in my pajamas."

I smile. "Okay. You can take off your shoes and leave your bag here." I take his hand and move him two steps to the right. "Right here."

He drops everything. "So," he whispers, "this is your room."

"I know that you can't actually _see _it, but yes."

"I'm still in your room."

"Don't act like a baby. Come on."

I lead him to the bed. I take the side closest to the window, and he lies down beside me.

"Thanks for coming," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I'm sorry that I woke you up in the middle of the night."

"You didn't—"

"Jace, please."

He sighs. "You know I don't care."

"But I do." I turn around to face him. I can't really see him, since my blinds are shut. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I reach over until I'm touching his face. "Is this your cheek?"

"And my mouth," he replies.

"Oops." I actually giggle. That's how tired I am. "Sorry."

"It's okay." I hear the laughter in his voice. "Come on. Let's get you to sleep."

I turn away from him. "Okay."

And, miraculously, I fall into an easy, uncomplicated, wonderful sleep.

* * *

"Is it here?"

I bite my nails as Jace searches our mail. I couldn't do it myself, so he's doing it. All of it. Like, he's opening the package and all, probably.

"It's here." He holds it behind him and sets the other packages and letters on the table. "Listen, Clary, whatever happens, you're amazing. You're a good student, and a great person, and one of the most talented artists I've met."

"I'm probably the _only _artist you've ever met," I mutter.

He shakes his head and smiles. "You'd still be the best. Are you ready?"

"Nope."

"So let's do it, then."

I close my eyes while he opens the package. He takes a second too long, so, without opening my eyes, I ask, "Dude, hurry up."

He clears his throat. "I am very pleased to tell you that—"

He doesn't get to finish, though, because I let out a string of yelps and jump into his arms, latching onto him like a koala. It's kind of embarrassing, really, but I don't care, because _I just got into my dream school_, and I'm so happy I could cry.

"Oh my God," I say into his neck. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—"

He wraps his arms around me. "I told you you'd get in."

"Oh my _God_."

I hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. "I'm so happy for you, Clary."

I wrap my arms around his neck. "Thank you." I pull back to meet his eyes. "I'm gonna get off you now."

"Yup."

I send a message to the group saying that I got in (!), and then I call my mom, who promises that she'll tell Luke. I send Seb a snapchat saying that I got in (the actual picture is of me and Jace, with me holding the acceptance letter while the two of us make excited faces), and he replies with a picture of him and Lily saying congrats. I don't think I've been this happy. Ever.

"I should definitely make you food," he says.

"I'm too excited to be hungry," I confess. "I don't even know what to do with myself right now. Oh my _God_."

"You said that." He smirks. "Do you wanna look at the school website for a while?"

He knows me far too well. "I can do it while you cook. I'll show you any cool things I come across."

"That sounds good."

I bring my laptop to the kitchen. I take a small corner of the counter and bring a chair, setting up shop there. I browse through the site while Jace makes me scrambled eggs. I don't like eggs at _all_, but he makes these amazing ones that don't taste like eggs. He puts salami and spinach and onions and cheese and garlic and other stuff in it, and it tastes like the best thing ever.

And that's how we spend our early afternoon: him making breakfast (even though it's one) and me pointing out things about my dream school. Which I got into. Which is _insane_.

By the time Mom gets home at around six, Jace is long gone. I miss him—of course I do—but having my mom give me a hug and congratulate me reminds me that, despite everything, she's rooting for me. That doesn't mean I'll forget everything else, but it means that, deep down, she cares. Which, ultimately, is what's important.

"Was Jace around?" Mom asks.

"Why?" I frown.

"Well, I'm assuming someone cooked, because the apartment smells like it, and I know you can't cook to save your life, and neither can Isabelle, and Simon can't be bothered to cook, so."

"Well, what about Sebastian?"

"Does he cook?"

I sigh. "No."

"So Jace?"

"Yeah, he was here. He came in after you guys left for moral support. And he made breakfast."

"A late one, considering I can still smell it."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't eat before I got the letter, so we ended up eating at one."

"Oh." She nods. "Let me see it."

I bring it out to her, and she examines it. "Do you know when you'll hear back about financial aid?"

"No. But we've filled out the FAFSA too, so we're okay."

She nods. "I'm happy for you, Clary."

"Thanks, Mom."

I walk back into my room. I watch _Bob's Burgers _for hours, until I'm too tired to keep going. The only thing keeping me awake is more of a person than a thing, really. It's Jace. He's keeping me awake.

His mom and stepdad have been fighting all night, and he's been texting me the whole time. I told him he could come over, even though that's kind of a lie, but he said no anyway, because he wanted to be there. He's always cautious, always worried that things will get out of hand. I'm worried, too, but I'm more worried about him than his mom. Is that terrible? I've never met her, really, and all I remember is that she likes to drink and dates terrible guys.

_They've calmed down, thankfully, _says his last message. _I know you're probably exhausted, so I'll let you sleep._

I sigh. I _am _tired, but there's no way in hell I'm letting him know that. _I'm fine. Are you sure things over there are okay? I can stay up for as long as you want me to._

His reply comes a few seconds later. _I'm sure. Thank you, though. Go to sleep, Clary. I'll talk to you tomorrow._

_Okay. But call me if you need me to wake up, okay?_

_I will. Goodnight, Fray._

_Goodnight, Wayland._

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	35. Is There Somewhere?

_Hiii, guys! I know that I haven't replied to your reviews yet, and I apologize; my life has been crazy lately, with midterms and personal stuff and whatnot, but I'll try to get to it before the next update for sure. As always, special thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, for being so wonderful always. DeathCabForMari overuses the eggplant emoji like a motherfucker, and it's lowkey my favorite thing in the world, even if it mortifies me, and I love you both. Thanks to spikeyhairgood for being wonderful and listening to me, and to LuckyAsLockhart, because I miss your face, and I'm sorry that I haven't talked to you lately. Thanks to clarissadele, because she's patient and awesome. I love all of you. _

_Thanks to you guys for reading! As always, to my musical guest, recommendations are welcome. I'm hoping to get to them this weekend, because I miss listening to new music, and I'll be a little less busy (or, well, writing papers, which is better done with music in the background, imo). I hope you guys have a lovely week, and I'll see you next time! _

* * *

_You were dancing in your tube socks in our hotel room  
Flashing those eyes like highway signs  
Light one up and hand it over  
Rest your head upon my shoulder  
Just wanna feel your lips against my skin_

_White cheeks, bright lights  
Crooked teeth and the night life  
You told me this is right where it begins  
But your lips hang heavy underneath me  
And I promised myself I wouldn't let you complete me_

_I'm trying not to let it show_  
_That I don't wanna let this go_  
_Is there somewhere you can meet me?_

_'Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings  
And you clutched my brain and eased my ailing_

"Is There Somewhere" by Halsey

* * *

It's six in the morning.

Sebastian slams the trunk of his car, making me jump. I glare at him as I make my way into the backseat with Jace.

It's time for our college road trip, which I'm actually super excited about. It took a lot of time and effort to convince my mom to let me come on this road trip, and she only let me because I told her that I'd be rooming with Lily (which I will be) the whole time. But still.

"It's so early." I groan, looking up at Jace, who seems to be sharing these feelings. Neither one of us is a morning person. "I want to die."

"Same," Jace says. "Just lie down and we'll sleep. It'll be a while until we're able to actually get out of the city."

"Mhmm."

We're going to Syracuse first, because both Lily and Sebastian got in (and can afford to go), so it's their first choice. It's really weird for me to use "their" and "them" when it comes to actual life choices two individuals make, but, at the same time, I know that they're happier this way. Like, if it were me, I wouldn't be able to handle it, because I make my own choices, regardless of who I'm making unhappy or whatever. But the two of them are kind of like a package deal now, which is awesome.

I rest my head on Jace's lap (his suggestion, not mine) and close my eyes. I'm listening to my music, which is how I'm able to fall asleep, but I wake up a few hours later, the morning light burning the backs of my eyes. And my actual eyes.

I hate daytime.

"Where are we?" I ask, careful not to wake Jace up. My voice comes out all scratchy.

"Scranton," Sebastian replies.

"Oh my God, Sebastian, you're kidding."

"Nope," Lily says. "This is Scranton. As in _The Office_."

"I need to take a picture with something. I need to buy a t-shirt. Oh my _God_." I smack Sebastian's arm. "You ass."

"Hey! I'm driving."

"We're coming back this way anyway," Lily says. "So we'll stop then. When we're all conscious."

I sigh. "Okaaaay."

Isabelle and Simon are also visiting colleges, though separately. Simon got into UCLA and Emory and Rochester and a bunch of others, and Isabelle got into RISD, FIT, FIDM, NYU, Syracuse, The New School, and a bunch of other schools like that. She's not visiting Syracuse, though; she told me to send her lots of pictures and to FaceTime her and stuff, but she's meeting up with Simon in LA (he's visiting UCLA, and she's visiting FIDM), and then they're parting ways.

I settle back in my seat and take a deep breath. I'm still kind of sleepy, so I lie back down, my head, once again, resting on Jace's lap.

* * *

We get to Syracuse at around eleven.

We agree to meet up in the parking lot at two and let Lily and Sebastian go their way. I take pictures of everything—mostly Snapchats—and send them to Isabelle. Students walk around campus, oblivious to the fact that we don't study here. And have no idea where we're going. We just keep walking.

In my purse, I have a few chocolate bars and snacks. Jace asks me to hand him the almonds an hour after we start walking. Even though it's the first week of April, it's still kind of chilly out. Like, in the high forties. Which is nice weather, but still. It's windy and cloudy and perfect.

"It's so pretty," I comment. "I mean, I know I wanna leave New York as a whole behind, but damn. Insert whistle here."

He frowns. "What?"

I shrug. "I can't whistle."

"So you say 'insert whistle here'?"

I raise both eyebrows at him. "Are you judging me?"

"_No_," he says, and I have to admit that it's very adorable. "I'm questioning your sanity. There's a difference."

I smile, shake my head, and push him slightly. "Stop judging me. Or _questioning _me."

He grins. "Never. I love making fun of you."

I stick my tongue out. "Whatever. Let's not forget who plays with balls around here."

Jace groans. "Oh my God."

"That's right."

"I can't believe you still think that joke is funny." He shakes his head, but he's smiling.

"It's _hilarious_."

"It's weird."

"So it fits you, then."

He wraps an arm around me and pulls me to him. I smile and take one of his almonds, plopping it in my mouth. The weather is perfect, and the campus is gorgeous, and Sebastian and Lily should definitely go to school here. I mean, it's so perfect for them. Maybe not for Isabelle—I feel like she's destined to go to school and live in a city—but definitely for the two of them.

It's twelve thirty, and Jace is tired. Of course. I give him a water bottle, and we sit down underneath a tree. Thankfully, I'm wearing jeans; I don't like the feeling of anything related to nature against my skin. But it looks pretty, and it's nice, so I sit down, hand Jace another bag of almonds, and relax against him.

The breeze blows gently, caressing my skin, soft as a whisper. I feel my eyes closing slowly, subconsciously, but I don't stop it from happening. Jace's shoulder is so comfortable, and he is so familiar, and I can't help but close my eyes.

Jace nudges me after what feels like a few seconds. "Let's listen to music," he says.

Sleepily, I take my phone from my pocket, hand him a headphone, and put mine on, resting my head on his shoulder once more. My vision's a little blurry, but I scroll through my library until I settle on a song.

_You look so wonderful in your dress  
__I love your hair like that  
__The way it falls on the side of your neck  
__Down your shoulders and back  
__We are surrounded by all of these lies  
__And people that talk too much  
__You've got the kind of look in your eyes  
__As if no one knows anything but us_

_Should this be the last thing I see  
__I want you to know it's enough for me  
_'_Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need_

_So in love  
__So in love  
__So in love  
__So in love_

I keep my eyes closed, breathing in the lyrics and the beat and everything. I feel it in my veins, in every breath I take. My heart begins to beat faster, almost involuntarily, but I keep it steady.

It's weird to listen to these songs with him, but I don't stop it. I should. We're just being friends right now. I mean, we've reached a point where all of our previous issues are solved. We trust each other completely, and we're okay, but there's still so much we don't know about what the future holds. And it scares me to think that I would follow him anywhere.

Still. Even if I'm trying my hardest to wait until my future is a little bit more stable, I can't help but want to be with him. All the time. Seriously. And it isn't so much that butterflies are wreaking havoc in my stomach or whatever. I just feel so at peace when I'm with him. Comfortable. Like that's where I'm meant to be for the rest of my life.

And it's scary to think of it as forever, but I can't imagine it being any other way. When I look at him, I see the guy I want with me when I graduate college. When I get my first real job. When I get home from a crappy internship, I see the guy who will either be at home waiting for me or on the other side of a phone call as I fill him in on everything. When I see him, I see the guy who will be there when my dreams come true.

So it hurts to keep him a friend right now. I mean, there's nothing wrong with friendship, but I want more. I want him to kiss me before we go to class and when we meet for lunch and in the mornings, when he can still taste the sleep that lingers on my lips, and during the night, when excitement mixes with exhaustion, when I am most comfortable. I just want _him_, and, while being friends is great, I want more.

_Love of mine  
__Someday you will die  
__But I'll be close behind  
__I'll follow you into the dark  
__No blinding light  
__Or tunnels to gates of white  
__Just our hands clasped so tight  
__Waiting for the hint of a spark_

_If heaven and hell decide  
__That they both are satisfied  
__Illuminate the nos  
__On their vacancy signs  
__If there's no one beside you  
__When your soul embarks  
__Then I'll follow you into the dark_

"Clary?" Jace nudges me slightly. "Claaaaary?"

I shift beside him and make a noise that says to leave me the fuck alone.

"Clary, it's almost two. We have to meet Seb and Lily."

I groan, my eyes still closed. "Do we really have to?"

He laughs. "Yup. Come on. I'll ignore the fact that you drooled on my shoulder a little bit if we can get going."

"I did _not _drool on your shoulder." I lift my head and glare at him.

"No," he says. "But it got you to get moving."

"You devious bastard," I tell him. "Help me up."

"Why am I Ann Perkins in this scenario?"

I grin. I figured that he watched _Parks and Rec_, but I'm glad that he got the reference. "Well, you're definitely not Leslie."

"Neither are you."

"Pffft. I'm passionate about things."

"Like sleep?"

"Yes."

"Very true, then. _Fine_. I'm Ann." He shakes his head. "I can't believe you get Ben Wyatt, honestly."

"Did you want Ben?"

"I really did."

I smile. "Well, you get Chris, who has an amazing body. And, even though he might not get your references, he'll support you all the time."

"Very true."

"I get the accountant; you get the guy who's always smiling."

Jace laughs. "Do you have something against accountants?"

I shake my head. "I've never _met _one, but no, seeing as I'm happy to end up with one."

"Uh-huh."

We meet Sebastian and Lily at the parking lot, as agreed upon. Jace and I are splitting a chocolate bar as we approach them. They have tote bags and brochures and a bunch of other stuff.

"We're definitely choosing this one," Lily says. "It's so amazing!"

"Agreed," I tell her. "It's so gorgeous."

"You were asleep half the time," Jace reminds me.

"Well, it _felt _gorgeous."

He grins. "It did."

I'm still slightly sleepy, but I just sit on my side of the car and listen to music while looking out the window. I feel Jace's gaze on me a couple of times, but I don't know if I'm imagining or not. My heart races at the thought, but I force my eyes to stay glued to the outside.

* * *

The thing about having Sebastian as a friend is that things are better because his family is rich.

It's not why we're friends (duh), but he's basically paying for the whole trip. I'm paying for my food, but that's about it, because Seb's dad gave him, like, three grand to finance this trip.

So we stay in Chicago. We get there at almost two in the morning. We're all super tired. Jace was the last one to drive, and I sat with him up front while Seb and Lily slept in the back. We checked into our hotel, and now here we are. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:15, and I want to die. Lily and I are sharing a room, but I already know what's coming.

"Can we switch? You get Jace as a roommate, and I stay with Seb?"

I groan. "Lilyyyy."

"I know it makes things harder for you," she tells me. She knows all about my feelings for Jace. "But pleaaaaase."

"Fiiiine. Go."

About five minutes later, there's a knock on the door, and Jace shows up with his suitcase.

"She didn't give you the key?"

"She left it here," he says. "Listen, are you okay with this? Because I can—"

I shake my head. "I'm okay. We've slept together before." _Fuck_. My cheeks redden as I realize what I said. "Not that we'll be sleeping together now."

He smiles. "Don't worry. I'll behave."

_You're not the one I'm worried about_, I want to say, but I don't. Instead, I return his smile, text my mom to let her know where we are, and lie down on my bed.

"Oh my _God_."

"I know," Jace says.

"Oh my God, though."

"Yup."

This feels _so amazing_. "Okay, I'm gonna pass out. Goodnight, Wayland."

"Night, Fray."

* * *

We're staying in Chicago for three more days (aka most, if not all, of our trip), just because we have three colleges to see.

Jace got rejected from the University of Chicago, which sucks, but he still got into UIUC, which is about two hours away from the city. We drive down at nine in the morning, even though we're all _exhausted_. Seriously. Whose idea was it to start the day so early?

Right. It was Sebastian's.

Sebastian and Lily are amazing. They're both morning people. I mean, it isn't that they're bright and cheery, but they can function. Jace and I, on the other hand, look like we want to die.

Once we get to UIUC, Jace takes us to where he's supposed to meet our tour guide. There's a bunch of people in the lobby of the building, so we make our way over to them and find the guide. We all get visitor's passes and whatnot, and we wait for the tour to start.

I zone out. Honestly, I'm still tired, so I don't even remember the name of the tour guide. She's super quirky and engaging, but I just keep a headphone in, walk alongside Jace, and look around campus.

Being here makes me excited to go to college. I mean, _God_. I've never been so ready for anything else in my entire life. The classes are a billion times more interesting than the ones in high school, you're independent, the campus is beautiful…it's a dream come true.

By the time the tour is over, Jace nudges me. "You tired?"

As if on cue, I yawn. "Damn it," I mutter. "A little."

He smiles. "It's okay. You should sleep on the way back."

"But I'm also super starved."

"And we'll eat something."

"Yup," Lily says. "We're ordering room service."

It's four in the afternoon by the time we get back to the hotel. We order room service, as Lily says, and then we go back to our new arrangement. Lily and Seb sleep together, and Jace and I are stuck here. In the same room.

His hair is still wet from the shower he took, and it makes him look so good I want to cry. Seriously. I clear my throat. "So," I say. "How'd you like the school?"

He shrugs. "It was good."

"Just good?"

"I don't have anything else to compare it to," he explains. "I don't know. I'd be fine going."

I don't know why that makes me so upset. Maybe because I was hoping he'd like it. Because I'm still hanging on to some stupid, invisible thread of hope that maybe, _maybe _he'll go to school in the same city as I will, and then maybe I won't have to be apart from him again.

"Hey," he says, looking at me with a frown on his face. "You okay?"

I nod, even though it's pretty much a big fat lie. "Yeah."

He studies me for a second. "You sure?"

I give him another nod. "I'm _fine_." I sit up. "You excited about Loyola tomorrow?"

He nods. "Yeah, actually."

I smile. "Good."

"What about you? Nervous about SAIC on Wednesday?"

I nod. "Definitely."

He grins. "You'll be okay."

"Thanks," I say softly. "I'm gonna pass out, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"Goodnight, Jace."

"Night, Clary."

* * *

After the Loyola visit, we all go out to eat pizza. Lily and Sebastian order while Jace and I get a booth. He sits next to me, and I sit close to the wall, as per usual.

"You looked like you loved the school," I say.

"I did." He bites his lip, which is, admittedly, the hottest thing on the planet. Ever. "It's my top choice so far, and they gave me good aid."

"Good." I smile. "I'm happy for you."

He returns the smile. "Thanks. Hey," he adds. "Have you heard from SAIC's financial aid office?"

I frown. "Let me check."

My email loads, and I'm surprised to find absolutely nothing on there. I sigh and shake my head, answering his question.

"We'll stop by the office tomorrow," he assures me. "Whatever happens, we'll get you out of New York."

I wish that his words would comfort me. They usually would! But I know that, despite his intentions, he has no actual control over what happens to me. I give him a smile, but I can tell he knows it's fake. He opens his mouth to say something, but our friends slide into the booth just then, making him snap it shut.

"It'll be ready in fifteen minutes," Sebastian says. "But we brought drinks."

So they did. I take my Coca-Cola and sip on it, the familiar taste comforting me. I didn't realize how hungry I am until I started drinking this. Holy crap.

"So," Lily says to Jace. "Do you think you'll go there? To Loyola, I mean."

He shrugs. I swear his eyes flicker over to me for a split second before meeting hers. "I don't know. I have a few things to think about before I make my choice."

She nods. Her lilac-colored hair falls in waves past her shoulders. She takes a sip of her Sprite. "You still have a few weeks."

_A few weeks_. Jesus. She and Sebastian are already set on Syracuse, which is crazy, because they've only known each other a few months and they're already planning this insane life together, but it's also kind of sweet. And fitting. They both deserve the best of things.

We eat our pizza as we talk about how beautiful Loyola is, and then we make it to the hotel. It's windy outside, of course, because it's Chicago, so Jace wraps his arm around me and leads me inside.

Sebastian and Lily give each other _the look _in the elevator, which means that, of course, Jace and I need to go directly to my room—_our _room—because Seb and Lily are gonna bang. Which is gross. But still happening.

We part ways when we get to our floor. Jace opens the door to our room, and I go to my bed. My chest feels heavy. What will happen if we're separated? We aren't together, but I can tell that we want to be. I mean, _God_, this whole thing is killing me.

Jace opens his suitcase, and I decide to check my email. I close my eyes while the page loads, and, when I open them, I see that I have an email.

Like, _the _email.

"Oh my God," I say.

"What?"

"The aid notice. It's here."

He rushes to my side. "Okay. Okay, open it."

"Okay."

I feel like I'm gonna cry as I press on the attachment. I look over at Jace. I feel so fragile, like a breath could make me crumble and fall apart. I'm pretty sure my eyes are watering. I look back down.

"Oh my God." I stand up on the other side of the bed, far from Jace. "Oh my God. Oh my _God_."

"What?" Even though I'm not looking at Jace, I hear the worry in his voice. "What is it?"

I don't know what to do with myself. I keep reading. "I need your phone."

"What?"

"Jace. Your phone. _Now_."

He hands it to me in one quick motion and waits. I open up his calculator and start doing the math. My hands are shaking, so this is taking longer than it usually would, and I can feel his frustration, but I don't care.

I hand him the phone.

"Oh my God," he says.

I look up at him with a stupid smile on my face and tears caught in the backs of my eyes and a knot in my throat and a rock in my chest. I throw my phone on the bed. "I can afford it."

"Oh my God," he says.

I run up to him and throw myself against him, my arms wrapped around his neck, and legs around his waist. I hug him tightly. My entire body is shaking; I don't think I've ever felt so much in my entire life.

Because this is what I've been waiting years for. A chance to get out. And I get to go to my _dream school_.

I meet Jace's eyes. "I did it."

And then, without thinking, I press my lips against his.

His lips are so soft and warm and I just melt against them. His hands are on the backs of my thighs, supporting my weight, but I push myself closer to him, wrapping my legs tighter around him. The kiss is desperate and sweet and I don't think I have been happier than I am right now, wrapped around him as I kiss him like I have wanted to for years. And it's better than anything I could've hoped for. It's all of my dreams come true, and magnified, and I just want to kiss him forever. That's all I want to do. Fuck college and the future and everything else. All I need is this.

We break apart, and he sets me down on the bed, kneeling down in front of me. He looks so goddamn vulnerable and sexy as shit and all I want is to kiss him again. I run one of my hands through his hair and let it slide down to the nape of his neck. I bite my lip, forcibly keeping myself still.

He's almost my height, even kneeling down on the floor, with me on the bed. Which is crazy. And sexy. Oh God, I'm screwed.

He places both of his hands on my thighs lightly. I think he might actually be shaking. "I'm still—" He breaks off. "I am still so completely in love with you, Clary."

I take both of his hands and intertwine my fingers with his. I didn't think it was possible for so much happiness to fit inside one person. I love him so much that I might overflow. "I'm in love with you too," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "Like, ridiculously in love with you." I feel like crying. Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I want to kiss him so badly, but I need to finish speaking before I do. "No one's ever done the things you have for me. Before I met you, I didn't have anyone to talk to about my mom, and it was just killing me, and I was so alone, and I thought that I would never really be in a place where I would be _really _happy. And then I met you," I tell him. "And you were so great. And you _listened_. And you supported me. Even when you found out about everything I'd ever been through, you still stayed, and you told me that I would be okay." I take a breath. "You are, without a doubt, my person." And then, because I know he'll get it: "I love you and I like you."

He smiles, and I want the look he has on his face to stay in my brain forever. I never want to forget a single detail about today.

"I love you and I like you."

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	36. I Bet My Life

_Hi guys! I have a lot to do tonight, so I'm gonna make this quick: I'm sorry that I haven't replied to your reviews, but I haven't had time. I will, though! I love all of you and I read all of them and smile and appreciate them hard. Thank you. Thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, for being so fabulous and amazing. Thanks to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, and LuckyAsLockhart for being awesome. I love youuuu. _

_To the person who said the thing about my writing: seriously, it's okay. There is absolutely no need to apologize. You were so polite and nice about it, and it's okay. That happens to me all the time when I read books, so I understand entirely. :) _

_I know this chapter's short, but it's important, I think. _

_I hope you guys like it!_

* * *

_I've been around the world and never in my wildest dreams_  
_Would I come running home to you_  
_I've told a million lies but now I tell a single truth_  
_There's you in everything I do_

_Now remember when I told you that's the last you'll see of me_  
_Remember when I broke you down to tears_  
_I know I took the path that you would never want for me_  
_I gave you hell through all the years_

_So I, I bet my life, I bet my life_  
_I bet my life on you_  
_I, I bet my life, I bet my life_  
_I bet my life on you_

"I Bet My Life" by Imagine Dragons

* * *

There are times in life when one must face realities otherwise deemed as unacceptable. These are the things that people don't believe are true or possible or necessary, things that people feel are results of over-emotional or temperamental, rash behavior.

And these are the things I'm facing now.

I knew this before. Of _course _I knew this before. Every time I fought with my mother, I always thought, _Well, I have to get out_. But I always thought about it like a temporary thing, you know? I've spent my entire life fighting with my mother and then settling back into a pre-established state of making up with her without ever actually apologizing to each other. So I always thought that, no matter what, I could permanently come back to her. That it wouldn't be something that'd affect my life massively.

But, this morning, we had a fight. Of course we did. There was nothing extraordinary about it—we fought about something, she blew it out of proportion, tried to slap me, I blocked her, and then I stormed into my room, locked it, and went out the fire escape. And then I walked. I roamed the busy streets, full of tourists and businesspeople and everyone else, by myself. I didn't call Jace, or Sebastian, or Isabelle, or Simon, or Maia. I just listened to music and breathed and willed my heart to feel a little bit lighter, because even the most minor of differences would have made me feel like I could breathe again.

And then, in the middle of all the walking and thinking, I realized something that had always been right in front of me. Something important. Something that I never really wanted to accept.

My mother and I will never really be totally okay with each other.

And I have to be okay with that.

What I mean by that is pretty simple, really. Basically, going home for long breaks is going to drive me insane. I don't know if I wanna come home for Thanksgiving. The things that she's done will stay with me forever. No amount of good things and support will erase the bad things that she's done.

And that means that we'll never really be close. I'll never really be able to say that I love my mother without wanting to hesitate or add something about the things she's done and the fact that she's far from perfect. And it sucks. Because I want to love her plainly and simply and in the way that most people do their parents. I want to love her without thinking twice about it. But I don't think I do.

I have to stay far from her. I can't live with her. She's my family, and I'm sure our relationship will improve, but that's only if we stay at arm's length, always cautious with each other. And it's not the way that family is supposed to work—it's supposed to be about unconditional love and _always always always _being there for each other and _support and trust and love love love_—but that's not the way it is with us.

And I don't think that she's a terrible person. I don't. I get along with her sometimes, like when she's making fun of the way Jon's friends talk, or when we're in the car and she's singing along to her favorite song, or when she talks about funny videos or a new recipe or the art gallery or something. She has moments where she's really great, you know, and those are the moments that have caused me to be in denial so long, because I think, _This is totally fine. I can live with this._

But those slivers of good don't outweigh the bad.

And it's haunted me. It always has. I always thought that there was something wrong with me because I've never felt strongly about my family. My brother's okay, I guess; our relationship is better now that he's away too. I guess that proves my point even more.

But I ran from that truth. I mean, Isabelle's family is fucked up too (her dad's cheated on her mom, and they're always traveling, and her little brother gets on her nerves), but she is so fiercely loyal and she defends them like no one else. And she _loves _them. She loves them wholly and amazingly. And Simon loves her mother too, despite the fact that she's batshit crazy, religious as hell, and strict as fuck. Whenever I talked about how much apathy I felt towards my family, namely my brother and mother, the two of them would look at me with a _can you please stop talking? _kind of expression.

I can't deny it anymore, though. Forcing myself to visit my family would be a waste of time and money and emotional stability. The things that have happened to me won't disappear just because I want my life to be _easy_.

So I just won't visit as much. I'll visit twice a year, maybe. Three times the first year. I'll make sure Jace comes with me, because otherwise I'll lose my mind.

Things will never be totally okay. Right now, as I walk back into my empty apartment, I realize that I'm fine with that.

* * *

It's ten past nine o'clock in the afternoon, and my mother sits me down on the couch with a serious expression.

The boys went out to get dinner (and possibly because Mom told them to leave), which left the two of us alone. At home. For the first twenty minutes, I chilled in my room, watching TV and talking to my friends and boyfriend. But then, of course, my mom called me out, and now here I am. Sitting on the couch. With my mother.

"There are some things I want to talk to you about," she says, "and I'd rather do it sooner rather than later."

"Okaaaaaay," I say, a frown on my face. "What is it?"

She sighs. "Despite everything, I want you to know that I'm proud of you." She shifts in her seat. "You and I argue a lot. You're lazy and selfish and disorganized—"

Rage boils up inside me. "If this is just you bashing me, then I'll pass."

She shakes her head. "It's not that. You are all of those things, and I'm not, so we fight. We can't live together; I know that. I know that you needed to get away. I still don't think that I've done anything bad enough for you to want out so badly, but I'm not gonna argue about that tonight." _Even though you have_. "Despite our differences," she continues, "I know that you're hardworking, and you're going to do great things."

I nod. "Thanks. And thank you for paying for me to leave," I say. "I've heard that that's usually a hard things for parents, so." _Awkward_.

"It isn't hard for me."

"No surprise there."

"Not because of _that_." She shakes her head again. "You've always expressed your individuality and independence. Always. And you've always said you wanted to get out, so I've had time to prepare and adjust. And I've never wanted to hold you back—you _or _your brother."

I nod, taking a breath. "Well, thanks. Can I go now?"

She nods. "I'll let you know when the boys are back."

I go to my room, lock my door, and sit cross-legged on my bed. I see on my phone that I have a few texts from Isabelle, Jace, and Sebastian, but I don't answer them. I don't even read them. I just lie down and think.

My mother has done a lot of really terrible things that I will never, ever forget. I can't even forgive some of them. And when I'm upset, and when I feel like shit, they are the things that play in the back of my mind in an endless loop that makes me feel like dying. She is the one person that tore me down my entire life. And yeah, she's proud of me, and she's encouraging me _now_, but it hasn't always been that way. You know when you're a kid and there's always that super mean person that kicks you out of the swings or kicks sand at you or steals your lunch money (or your lunch) and makes fun of you? I never really had that kid. But I never really needed to have that kid, because I had my mother.

Which sounds, of course, super dramatic and kind of depressing. But it's true nonetheless.

However.

Despite all of the things my mother has done, there is one relatively good thing that has come out of this.

Because my mother spent so much time tearing me down and making me take hits (literally and figuratively) and being so very _Jocelyn _towards me, I learned to be strong. I learned to be tough. My skin is thick and my fists are always ready. Yes, I'm always ready to fight, but I don't think that's a bad thing. Even if my mother took important things from me, I came out of that whole mess alive. And stronger. And very much like myself.

And I'm proud of that.

Whether I like it or not, I am who I am largely because of her.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	37. Young God

_Hi, guys! It's midnight over here, so this is a quick update before I resume working/go to bed. I'm so sorry that I haven't gotten to reply to all of your reviews, but I appreciate them and will reply before the following update for sure, seeing as next week won't be as busy as this one. As always, thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, for being so amazing and lowkey crying with me about how little this story has left! Also, thanks to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, LuckyAsLockhart, clarissadele, and clarissa adele herondale for being so bomb and patient and kind and awesome. I love all of you guys. :) _

_The song choice is definitely more of a "it's the perfect one to play in the background while reading," because it **is**, but oh well. I adore it, and you should all check it out._

_Thanks for reading, and I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

_But do you feel like a young god?  
You know the two of us are just young gods  
And we'll be flying through the streets  
With the people underneath  
And they're running, running, running _

_But do you feel like a young god?  
You know the two of us are just young gods  
And we'll be flying through the streets  
With the people underneath  
And they're running, running, running again  
And we'll be running, running, running again  
And we'll be running, running, running_

_He says, "Oh, baby girl, don't get cut cut on my edges  
I'm the king of everything and, oh, my tongue is a weapon  
There's a light in the cracks that's separating your thighs  
And if you wanna go to heaven you should fuck me tonight." _

"Young God" by Halsey

* * *

"Okay, okay." I clear my throat. "When is the world going to end?"

Siri's mechanical voice answers me a few seconds later. "_As long as you keep me charged, we should be just fine_."

I drop my phone on the bed and laugh quietly, my head resting on Jace's shoulder—which is shaking, as he, too, is losing his shit. Oh my God.

"Okay." Jace clears his throat repeatedly and tries to keep a straight face. "I'm naked."

"_I don't understand what you mean by 'naked'. Or at least I'm going to pretend that I don't_."

"Ooooh," I say. "Siri doesn't like the view."

"I'm beautiful, Siri," Jace pipes up. "Fuck you."

"Do you have a penis?" I ask.

"_I can't provide the sort of assistance I think you're asking for, Clarissa_."

"Well," I tell Siri, "neither can my boyfriend, now that you've insulted _his _penis."

Jace glares at Siri for a second before speaking again. "What's zero divided by zero?"

The one we've been waiting for.

About an hour ago, Sebastian and Lily called us, laughing their asses off, and asked us to please, _please _ask Siri what zero divided by zero is. Of course, we said yes, but then we decided to ask a ton of other questions beforehand, because why not.

"_Imagine that you have zero cookies and you split them evenly among zero friends. How many cookies does each person get? See? It doesn't make sense. And Cookie Monster is sad that there are no cookies, and you are sad that you have no friends."_

"Oh my God," I say, my eyes wide as they meet Jace's. "Why would Siri _say _that?"

He's trying to keep a straight face. "My heart is broken."

I give in and, of course, lose my shit. I bury my face in Jace's pillow, my shoulders shaking with laughter. I hear him laughing beside me, too, but I can't bring myself to look up. Tears pool my eyes, and my stomach hurts—that's how hard I'm laughing.

"Oh God." I wipe at my eyes. "That was fun."

"I told Sebastian he was evil for suggesting it," he tells me.

I nod. "Good."

We're in Jace's apartment. His mom and her boyfriend are off traveling in Florida, I think, so the two of us get to spend a day here. Alone. Mom knows I'm with him, too, and I glared at her when she started to protest, because she never did that with Sebastian, so yeah. Bam.

We lie down on the bed, both of us facing the ceiling. "This feels weird," I tell him.

He turns to look at me. "What do you mean?"

"Like…" I trail off as I try to verbalize my feelings. He doesn't seem to mind the wait, though I probably look like a dumbass. "Okay. I've spent the last year or so worrying about whether I'd get out of here, you know? In a really tangible sense, I mean. And I've spent all of my life wanting to do that, too, and having that motivate me. And I also spent almost four years worrying about you," I say. "Which isn't meant to, like, make you feel guilty, but it's true. I worried about so many things all the time, and things are so perfect right now, and it's weird. I've always had to fight to get to this place, and I don't know what to do now that I'm here."

He takes my hand and places it on his chest. I feel it rising and falling every time he takes a breath and lets it go. And again. He's quiet for a while, actually; I'm assuming he's trying to figure out what to say.

"That's normal," Jace tells me. "To feel kind of restless and like you need to do _something_. And like you need to fight. But you get, like, this one summer of rest before you have to fight again—to get good grades and manage school and work and your social life and whatnot. So enjoy it." He nudges me. "You'll miss it when it's gone."

I move over so I can rest my head on his chest. I trace circles on his stomach. Which is very nice, by the way. Very nice. "I know. We haven't even finished school yet, but it feels like we were done a while ago."

He laughs. "True."

"But there's still finals and graduation." I sigh.

"So there it is," he tells me. "That's what you worry about."

"I don't think I care enough to worry."

One of his hands is running up and down my arm, sending shivers through me. It's kind of nice, actually. I want a billion days and nights like this, with us on a bed with low music playing in the background.

We've been together for almost two months now. I mean, we got together during the first week of April, and it's the last week of May, so yeah. And all of this time has flown by so fast, what with college crap to fill out and activities and rushing to spend time with everyone before we're separated by the end of the summer—which, coincidentally, hasn't even _started _yet. We graduate in two weeks—the second week of June—and I'm so beyond excited to get my diploma and get the hell out.

But I'm mostly excited that I get to be with Jace while having all of my dreams come true. I'm glad that I didn't have to give anything up. I still get to have the school of my dreams and the boy that I love. I mean, yeah, we did things kind of backwards, what with us falling in love and all _before _being in a relationship, but there are things we still don't know about each other.

And it's great. I love not knowing things about him. I love that he surprises me with new things, but that I can still count on the Jace that I know to be there. He's been the best throughout this summer, even though I've kept him up all night talking about how my two best friends are moving to California and I'm gonna miss them so damn much and oh my God, our little family—which he isn't even a part of, really, because he was never friends with us, but whatever—is falling apart.

But he told me that it wasn't falling apart. That the three of us—four, if Maia's included—have been friends through really tough times. And that sometimes people change, and they leave, but that he strongly believed that our friend group would stay strong through the distance and whatever else threatens to come between us.

And that was the nicest thing ever.

As for us, we tried to take it slow. We really, really did. But, after the first week, we totally gave in.

It was the night that I submitted my deposit to SAIC. He'd submitted his to Loyola two days earlier, and we'd both been waiting for my parents to get it together. It was a Saturday, and I called him, and I screamed, and I asked to go over, and he said yes, so I did, and his parents were out of town.

I showed up to his house knowing that something was going to change. That something was different. There was nothing holding us back anymore. I think we both forgot about our pledge to take it slow, because I looked at him when he opened the door and he'd never looked so attractive and amazing and I had never loved anyone or anything as much as I did him in that moment.

So I kissed him. Naturally. And he closed the door and backed me up against it, carefully and gently and far away from the handle. His lips were soft and wonderful against mine, and I think I kept forgetting to breathe. And then he took me to the bedroom, and he laid me down on the bed, and music was playing, though it was only a whisper.

I was nervous. For some really, really weird reason, I was nervous. Maybe because, even though I felt comfortable around him, this felt like more of a first time than the one I'd had with Sebastian. We took off our clothes in between kisses and awkward giggles. With shaking fingers, I took off my cardigan. And then my dress. And my tights. And Jace took off his shirt. And I helped him take off his pants.

Once we were in our underwear, I climbed onto his lap, wrapped my legs around him, and kissed him. He left a trail of kisses down my neck, stopping to suck on a few spots. I bit back moans until I couldn't anymore, and I gripped his back, probably leaving a few marks, and his lips lingered just above my breasts. He looked up at me, and, after I nodded, he took off my bra. It fell to the floor soundlessly, and then he laid me back down on the bed, and I had never felt so nervous and excited and turned on in my life.

He positioned himself on top of me, his arms on either side of me. One of his knees separated my thighs, and I pulled him down, his soft lips on mine for a fleeting moment before he sucked on my neck.

"Shit," he said. "That's definitely going to leave a mark."

"That bad?" I managed to find my voice.

"Terrible."

I let out a soft chuckle. He grabbed one of my nipples and began sucking on it. I was going to lose it. I mean, I was really going to lose it. It only took one touch for me to come undone. He just had that effect on me. But there was a huge difference between an innocent touch and _this_. And he looked up at me, an amazingly sexy (yet innocent) look on his face, and I felt like I was going to fall apart in the best kind of way. He sucked on my other nipple, his free hand playing with the border of my panties.

Oh my God. I was going to die.

All I could do was arch my back and moan and try not to pass out. I wanted to do more, but I was paralyzed. Jace looked up at me again to see if I was okay with him taking off my panties—which, holy hell, I totally was—so I nodded. He took them off. And then he took off his boxers. And that's when I noticed that I was trembling.

"Are you okay?" Jace whispered.

I nodded. "Mhmm."

"You sure?"

"I'm _sure_," I said, my voice still shaking.

(Sidenote: Jace has a super great penis.)

He searched my eyes once more before nodding. He moved over me, and our lips met. He pushed a finger inside me, and I arched my back towards him, _definitely _wanting more. Oh my God. I thanked every force in the universe that was responsible for this particular moment. After a few seconds, Jace pushed another finger in, and he broke our kiss to see if I was okay. I could see him looking for something in my eyes.

I grabbed the back of his neck with one of my hands and pull him down. I needed him to never stop kissing me. I needed him to kiss me for the rest of my life.

He pushed his fingers in and out of me rhythmically, and I felt like I was going to die. Of pleasure. Forever. _This is the way I wanna go_, I thought to myself, and it made me smile against our kiss. He broke apart, giving me a funny look before shaking his head and pushing his lips against mine.

He started sucking on my neck and pushed another finger in, the movements getting faster. I was going to die. I arched my back and wrapped my legs around his waist. Hell, I wanted to return the favor. But there'd be time for that.

I think that he was nervous about what I would and wouldn't be comfortable with, because, when he took out his fingers, he reached out to get a small towel that had been lying on his nightstand, and he cleaned his fingers. Oh my God. I wanted to scream at him that I didn't mind if he did anything with that. At all. Whatsoever. But it was kind of cute, how nervous he was.

He looked at me, and I looked at him, and there was a deep sense of understanding between us when we locked eyes. He reached over to take a condom from his nightstand, and I bit my lip and stared at the ceiling until I felt the bed shift, indicating that he was done putting it on. He positioned himself on top of me again, brushed my hair away from my face, and kissed my neck, and then my jaw, and then, finally, my lips.

And then he was inside of me. It'd been awhile since I had sex, so I felt a little bit uncomfortable when he first went in, and I told him to wait a second before he moved again, which he did, and then it felt amazing, because we fit together perfectly. And also because, oh my God, I wanted him. Right then and there. He didn't move for a second; he searched my expression for doubt or regret or something. When he didn't find a single negative thing, though, he started pulling himself out. And then pushing himself back in. At first it was slow, hesitant, but then, as I arched my back towards him and wrapped my legs around him again, he got the hint that I really very much needed him to speed the _fuck _up.

And, oh my God, did he ever.

It felt like heaven. _He _felt like heaven. I was panting and moaning and saying "oh my God" about a billion times, because, oh my _God_, it was amazing. _He _was amazing. I knew that he slept around, and so, of course, he had more experience than I did, but I didn't know that it shaped him up to be _this _good.

Still, though. I'm not a very vocal/loud person when it comes to sex. I made sure he knew that I was pretty much dying of enjoyment—moaning, gripping his skin, arching my back more and more, thrusting back whenever I managed to remember that, yes, I could _move_—but I didn't, like, scream or anything. I _wanted _to, but I'm naturally pretty quiet, so I just closed my eyes and clung to him.

And it was the best sex I ever had.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_


	38. Lanterns

_Hi guys! So so so sorry that I didn't keep my promise. I haven't replied to your reviews, and I'm sorry. I'm also sorry for the late update; I'm only updating now because I know I won't be able to update on Monday. I'm super busy with school, and I start my new job on Monday, so I'm about to get busier. Sorry if I forget to update or anything. I **do **plan on replying to your reviews at some point (maybe this weekend? I don't know), but I've just been busy. I read and appreciate all of them, so thank you. _

_Thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, for being so badass and awesome. Thanks to DeathCabForMari, spikeyhairgood, LuckyAsLockhart, clarissadele, and clarissa adele herondale for being so fantastic. I love you guysssss. _

_I hope you guys like this chapter!_

* * *

_Lately I've found_  
_When I start to think aloud_  
_There's a longing in the sound_  
_There is more I could be_  
_In darkness I leave_  
_For a place I've never seen_  
_It's been calling out to me_  
_That is where I should be_

_We never carried days on our own_  
_But now it's up to us to know_  
_The weight of being so much more_  
_We will find ourselves on the road_

_On we march_  
_With a midnight song_  
_We will light our way_  
_With our lanterns on_  
_On we march_  
_Till we meet the dawn_  
_We will light our way_  
_With our lanterns on_

_As we walk out_  
_Without question without doubt_  
_In the light that we have found_  
_It is finally clear_  
_Our day has come_  
_And we'll stand for who we are_  
_We are ready we are young_  
_We have nothing to fear_

"Lanterns" by Birds of Tokyo

* * *

"I fucking hate this stupid motherfucking thing with all of my fucking life, and I will _kill _somebody, specifically the person who invented this, unless someone can get it to _fucking stay on_!"

It's graduation day.

The fucking cap, along with the fucking tassel thingy that you turn to the right (or is it left?) side once you graduate, is being a fucking pain in the goddamn ass. We're supposed to start in half an hour, I think, and yet here we are. My mother is trying to fix it, snapping at me to stay still and shut up, while the boys go find seats. Jace is standing behind me, and Isabelle and Simon are keeping him company.

"Clarissa!" my mother exclaims, appalled at my vocabulary. I hear my friends stifling laughs behind me, and I wish I could turn around and glare at them. But, alas, I'm stuck here. Looking at my mother. Who is trying to fix my cap.

"Is it done?"

Mom nods. "I think so."

The cap still feels like it could fall, but whatever. I bid her adieu and join my friends.

"These gowns are so ugly," I whine, because they're _silver_. Like, ugly, we-look-like-aluminum-foil silver. It's gross.

"They're not _that _bad," Simon says.

Isabelle glares at him. "_What_?"

"They're terrible. Horrible. The absolute _worst_."

I smile at the two of them. I'm glad that they get to stay together. Thanks to Isabelle's family's insane wealth, she doesn't have to worry about paying for college, so she just chose to go to school in California. I think she's studying about twenty-five minutes away from Simon, who's studying at UCLA. She's studying at FIDM, which she loved, and everything worked out. I mean, she still wanted to study here, on the east coast, but she chose to be with him _and _go to a good school, so everyone won, I think. I _think_.

Anyway, people from the administration usher us in, and I separate from my friends. Isabelle and Simon go together, while I walk over to where the Fs are. I stand in line, and, twenty minutes later, when I feel like my feet might literally kill me, we start going up onto the stage.

"Clarissa Fray," the principal says, and I step onstage.

It's brief. I stay there for a beat before walking over to my plastic, uncomfortable chair. We all sit there, the graduating class, and we listen to speeches—the principal and teachers and the valedictorian and the salutatorian and _everyone_. I thought that this was going to bore me to sleep, much like my middle school graduation, but it didn't.

It feels right.

Because, much like the valedictorians, salutatorians, and members of the administration have said, we made it. _I _made it. Through everything that happened. Through the good and the bad and everything in between. I made it, and I'm the happiest I've ever been.

I get my diploma, shake hands with the principal, pose for a picture, and that's it. I'm a high school graduate. It's done. Well, I mean, it's _officially _done about twenty minutes later, when the principal declares that we've graduated, but still. People throw their caps in the air. I throw mine awkwardly, close enough for me to catch it, and then weave through the crowd, trying to find Jace, Isabelle, Simon, Sebastian, and Maia. I know that Lily's with the families and guests and whatnot, but I wanna see her too.

I see my friends all huddled up in one corner, so I walk over to them, careful not to trip on my heels. I'm wearing a smile on my face, and pride is making my heart swell. Jace takes my cap back off and gives me a kiss. I place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down, making the kiss last a second longer before I release him.

I hug everyone. Izzy, Seb, Simon, Maia, and Jace again—I hug all of my friends. Helen and Aline walk by, and I hug them too, wishing them good luck and all. I know that it will be a miracle if we talk again, but it's good to see them. I lean against Jace's shoulder and listen to them talk about the ceremony.

In her speech, the valedictorian said that the graduating class was her compass. Her guiding light. She was probably bullshitting it all, but I remember thinking that my friends—Isabelle, Maia, Sebastian, Lily, Simon, and, of course, Jace—are my compass. They are my guiding light. They point in the direction of the home. Hell, they _are _my home.

And that's never going to change.

* * *

There are boxes all over my room.

About a week ago, my mom started complaining about the fact that I've taken this as my relaxing summer. Basically, it means that I've just been in bed all summer. I get up to eat, occasionally hang out with my friends, and go to the bathroom. And then I'm back in bed. I watch TV, browse the internet, read…whatever.

It pisses her off.

So she dumped a whole bunch of boxes in my room and told me to start packing for Chicago. Even though it's the first week of July, and I move out in a month and a half.

She's crazy.

I opened them to make her happy, but I've just been dumping my dirty clothes on there. I know that I should _probably _start doing _something _with my life, but I get plenty of physical activity.

Sex. I'm talking about sex.

Either way, I deserve this. I worked my butt off to get to where I am, so having _one _summer in which I do absolutely nothing is totally a good thing, especially since it's most likely the last of its kind I'm ever gonna get. College and being an adult are both things that require hard work. I'm well aware of that. Which is why I _need _this summer. I _need _to be absolutely useless until about a week before I start moving.

But Jocelyn bitched.

And then she asked Jace to teach me how to drive.

He takes me to New Jersey in his car. I'm not complaining, but yeah. We listen to music and sing along most of the way there, neither of us talking much. It's early, so we're too tired to properly function, and I'm reminded of how much I hate my mother at this very point in time for making me wake up at nine in the morning when I went to bed at three.

Jace parks in a mall or something and gets out of the car, letting me go in the driver's seat. Okay. I've driven a vehicle twice—my mom is really paranoid—and I've done it well. Granted, the last time was over six months ago, but still. I can handle this, right?

I buckle up, adjust my seat, adjust my mirrors, check that Jace has his seatbelt on, and take off the emergency brake.

"You're doing an awesome job," he tells me. I could kiss him for being encouraging, but I'm driving.

"Where do I go?"

He shrugs. "Just drive around. This town's pretty empty, so we should be fine."

I'm half-scared, half-excited, so I just follow his advice. He helps me out here and there, but he's mostly really patient. My mom would be screaming things repeatedly, but Jace just calmly tells me when I'm about to fuck up. When I look over at him, he looks like he _knows _he's gonna die, but he's keeping it pretty together on the outside. I'm proud of him. And he's definitely getting laid for being so nice about this.

And just for being him, but that's neither here nor there.

We drive until we get hungry. We go to Chili's, eat, and then he takes us back to the city.

"That was fun," I say. "I didn't kill anyone."

"You really didn't." He sounds relieved. As he should be. "We'll do this again tomorrow."

I groan. "Can it be later?"

He nods. "Definitely."

He stops in front of my apartment building. Sadly, he's meeting up with Sebastian and some guys from the team and whatnot, so he can't come in, but I kiss him goodbye and tell him to text me. That should totally be enough.

Upstairs, Mom is waiting for me. Well, not really. She's making dinner, and Luke's watching TV, but still.

"How was it?" Mom asks.

I shrug. "It was fine. I didn't run anyone over."

"What'd you do?"

"Just drove around the streets," I say. "It was a small town. I'm glad he's my teacher, though. He's pretty patient."

"I know," she tells me. "That's why I wanted him to teach you. And because I didn't wanna pay for a teacher."

"There it is." I nod. "I'll eat later, okay?"

She nods. "I'll put your plate in the microwave."

I walk into my room, drop off my bag, take my phone, clean clothes/underwear, and walk to the bathroom. I lock the door once I'm inside, setting everything down carefully.

I love taking showers. Like, hot water showers, I mean. I know that it's pretty bad because of money and whatnot, but I like to stand underneath the hot water until I feel it starting to run out. I just love it. It relaxes me—inspires me, even. I don't know. I just really love showers.

Once I'm back in my room, I check my phone. A text from Simon. _Hey, Clare. Wanna hang with me, Iz, Alec, and Magnus?_

_I'd feel like a fifth wheel_, I reply.

_Invite Maia._

_Fiiiiiiine_, I tell him.

It's eight o'clock, and I'm a little tired, but I walk over to Luke and Mom's room. They're both on the bed, reading. Wow. Lame. At eight? I shake my head and go up to my mother.

"Can I stay over at Isabelle's?"

She looks up from her book. "Now?"

"Yeah. Simon texted and asked. I haven't seen them in forever, Mom."

"Fine. But be careful," she warns. "And let me know when you get there."

"Of course. Bye," I tell her. "Goodnight, Luke."

"Night," he says, eyes glued to the book he's holding.

I don't have to pack an overnight bag, so I just take my purse, stuff my charger in there, grab my phone, and make my way outside.

It's warm out, which isn't that great, but whatever. I listen to music the whole way to Isabelle's, of course, because what else would I do?

An acoustic song is playing by the time I actually make it to Izzy's. I'm super tired, so I pretty much just came here to lie down while everyone else talks about things and drinks, but I'm totally fine with that. Simon lets me in and leads me to Izzy's room, where, of course, everyone is hanging out, beers in hand. I shake my head when they offer me one and sit down.

"Water?" Maia asks. She'd already gotten here, which is crazy.

I nod. "Please and thank you. I'm insanely tired."

"What were you doing before?" Simon asks, frowning.

"More like _who _was she doing." Isabelle winks.

I throw a pillow at her. "Gross. You know Jace is with his friends."

"Whatever. How is that going, by the way?" she asks. Maia hands me a glass of water; I smile at her briefly before meeting Izzy's gaze once again. "You know, you and Jace."

I smile subconsciously. "We're good. _Really _good, in fact. He's been teaching me how to drive—"

"Is that a euphemism?"

I don't know who asks, to be honest, but I shake my head either way. "_No_. He's literally teaching me how to drive. Anywaaay," I continue, "we've been having a lot of fun. There's no pressure on us, which is awesome."

"Good," Maia says.

"How are you and Bat?" I ask her. "We haven't spoken about you guys in ages."

Her ears turn pink. "We're okay. I mean, I'm staying here in the city, and he's going to Rutgers, but I think we can make it work."

"I hope so."

"Thanks, Clary."

I turn to my other friends. "So, are you ready for Cali?"

"_So _ready." Isabelle turns to Alec and Magnus, who have just been kind of watching us interact. "Magnus is already helping me figure out what to buy, and Alec is giving me lists of all the awesome places in town. We're all gonna be hanging out, so it's gonna be awesome." As she gushes, I realize that she's actually _happy_. She was so nervous when she made the choice to go all the way to the other side of the country, especially because the main driving force behind that decision was Simon. But she's already been to orientation, and she's already thought about this, and she still seems happy. Her eyes light up when she speaks about moving to Cali, and she and Simon seem stronger than ever.

"That sounds awesome," I say. "I'm definitely visiting."

"Bring Jace," she tells me. "He has a _very _fine ass. He might beat Sebastian and Jon and Halloween Clary. I mean, seriously. _Damn_. You have good butt taste."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, I guess. Except one of those is my brother, so ew. Speaking of!" My eyes widen as I remember. "I have to tell you a story about my brother's butt."

I didn't know about this story until, like, last week—_two years _after it happened. Which is ridiculous. When Mom told the story during dinnertime, I laughed until I cried.

Anyway, here's the thing: my brother went to Best Buy one day to buy something—a DVD or an electronic device or _something_. I can't remember. The point is that, well, he was walking around, and then he heard someone say "I know that butt" in a sing-song voice, and then, before he could register what was happening, before he could even turn around to see who was standing behind him, the person pinched him.

Or, well, more accurately, the person grabbed his butt and _squeezed_.

And then my brother turned around. And the person realized that, nope, he did not, in fact, know that butt. My brother had never met this dude, and vice-versa. (_Yes_, it was a dude.) The dude was pink and stutter-y and apologized a million times. My brother was also embarrassed, thus resulting in the most awkward encounter in the history of the world.

I tell Isabelle all of this, and she dies. She's absolutely losing her shit. Alec and Magnus are clapping, while Simon is trying not to cough up the beer he was swallowing moments before, and Maia is doubled over with laughter. I'm laughing, too—I laughed between words as I told the story, and then as I saw my friends react to my brother's ridiculous, unbelievable life.

I lie down, all wrapped up in Izzy's blankets, as Alec and Magnus tell us about college life and _their _life and everything that we should expect. It's so weird to think that we've made it. We graduated, like, a month ago, and it's still weird to think that we're on a different, more complicated, much more real path. It's exciting! Super exciting. But also terrifying.

At least that's how I saw it. But now, with my head resting on Isabelle's comfortable (and insanely expensive, probably) pillow, I want those days to come now.

* * *

_Let me know what you think! xo_


	39. Can't Help Falling in Love

_Hey, guys! So, I know that this is late, but here it is: the final chapter of Maybe Someday. _

_My AN will be at the bottom, but I hope you like it. :) _

* * *

_Like a river flows  
Surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things were meant to be_

_Take my hand_  
_Take my whole life too_  
_'Cause I can't help falling in love with you_

"Can't Help Falling in Love" by Twenty One Pilots

* * *

"What's wrong?"

I look over at Jace, who's staring at me intently—studying me, almost, in scrutinizing detail. He's frowning slightly, as if I'm a complicated puzzle missing a few pieces. I think he's finally about to give up, though, hence the _what's wrong_? question he uttered a few seconds ago.

I shrug. "It's stupid."

"Tell me," he says immediately.

I smile. I like that about him—that he doesn't take _it's stupid/silly/dumb _as an answer. That he always wants me to say more. Because I'm not the kind of person to just blurt it all out, despite how much I may want to, in fear of being annoying or overly complicated or something that I most likely am but wish not to be.

"It really is dumb, though."

"Then enlighten me on your stupidity."

I roll my eyes but can't help but smile wider until my smile turns into a grin and I have to hide my face. I'm slightly delirious. We've been driving for, like, ten hours, and I feel like I might die, but whatever.

Jace and I are both moving into college. I move in later today (in about two hours, to be exact), and he moves in tomorrow. It's kind of exciting and terrifying and I don't think it has sunk in yet. Like, _yes_, we're on our way to Chicago, and, like, _yes_, I have a bunch of suitcases and dorm stuff and crap that I can visualize in my dorm perfectly, but I don't see myself actually living there, I don't think. Either that, or people build it up to be something that it isn't. We'll see.

However.

"I just feel like…" I shake my head. "It's stupid, but I just feel like maybe I don't wanna do this as badly anymore. It's been my dream for_ever_, I know, but it's scary! Why do I have to dream about scary things? And, like, I'm gonna be so far away from my family. Which, _yes_, is this whole thing's appeal, but it's also kind of scary, if you think about it. And my friends! I'll be so far from Iz and Si and Seb and Maia and Lily and—"

"Breathe," he reminds me, wrapping an arm around me while keeping the other one on the steering wheel. He glances at me for a second before his eyes land on the road. "Listen, Clary, it's perfectly okay for you to be scared about this right now. Yeah, you've wanted it for a long time, and it'll definitely benefit you in the long run, and I'm happy that we're gonna be together, but it's also scary. You'll be pulled out of your comfort zone. Your friends aren't gonna be there. And you've never been through any of that. You don't know how things are gonna change. And that's okay. You're okay."

"You should be a motivational speaker," I mutter, leaning into him. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

"I'm just scared."

"I know."

"But excited."

"I know."

"And nervous."

"Yup."

I look up at him. "I'm glad I have you."

He looks at me and kisses the top of my head, his eyes shifting between me and the road. Me and the road. He doesn't want us to die, but he wants to look at me too. "Me too."

Our parents are a few cars behind us. Well, our moms are, anyway. They're sharing a car. They both thought it'd be a great way to get to know each other, but we're both secretly dreading that. Whatever. Neither one of us is strongly influenced by them, so we'll be fine.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

"Swapping baby stories, probably."

"Gross."

"I know," I tell him. "My mom _loves _to embarrass me."

"Same here."

"Parents suck."

"Don't I know it."

"So." I look over at him. "Aren't _you _nervous?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

He shrugs. "A little."

"But not a lot."

"Not a lot," he confirms.

I sigh. "You and your stupid confidence."

"Yes, we do lack brainpower, but we're useful in many other ways."

"You can show me those later."

"You bet."

I hide my smile as music blares from the car's speakers. Our favorite song—one could argue that it's our song, really—begins playing, and we look at each other with wide eyes as the anticipation builds up inside of us. We always sing along to it, no matter what.

_Sometimes something beautiful happens in this world  
__You don't know how to explain yourself  
__So you just gotta sing_

_I just had sex  
__And it felt so good  
__A woman let me put my penis inside her  
__I just had sex  
__And I'll never go back  
__To the not having sex ways of the past_

We sing along, looking at each other with ridiculous faces. I try to keep a straight face as I attempt to dance along to the music in the car.

_Have you ever had sex?  
__I have, it felt great  
__It felt so good when I did it with my penis  
__A girl let me do it  
__It literally just happened  
__Having sex can make a nice man of the meanest_

_Never guess where I just came from  
__I had sex  
__If I had to describe the feeling  
__It was the best  
__When I had the sex  
__Man, my penis felt great  
__And I called my parents right after I was done_

_Oh, hey  
__Didn't see you there  
__Guess what I just did?  
__Had sex, undressed  
__Saw her boobies and the rest  
__Was sure nice of her to let you do that thing  
__Nice of any girl ever  
__Now sing_

Jace nods at the line "I wanna thank you all for letting us fuck you" and looks at me meaningfully, which makes me burst out laughing. He does it every single time, and it makes me lose it.

"So listen," I tell Jace as the next song begins playing. "After my parents leave—"

"I'll come right over," he says.

I smile. "Good."

_I was scared of dentists and the dark  
__I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations  
__Oh, my friends are turning green  
__You're the magician's assistant in their dreams_

_Oh, oh  
__And they come unstuck_

_Lady, running down to the riptide  
__Taking away to the dark side  
__I wanna be your left hand man  
__I love you when you're singing that song  
__And I've got a lump in my throat  
_'_Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong_

This song always makes me smile, and seeing Jace sing it while glancing over at me makes my heart sing the words too. I know that there's a lot we haven't done, a lot we haven't been through, and that this is just the start of our story. At least I hope so, anyway.

But, either way, I've learned that being with him is the best feeling. I feel butterflies sometimes, sure, but the most important part about being with him is that I'm comfortable. Being with him is like coming home after a long day and being able to sit back and sigh and close your eyes. Being with him is like listening to your favorite song, the one that is always stuck in the back of your head, or watching your favorite movie. It never gets old, and it always makes you feel happy.

He reminds me of everything I always forget. He reminds me to eat when I'm too focused on something else, reminds me to have some water when I'm on my billionth cup of coffee, reminds me to take a break whenever my hands are getting cramped up. He reminds me of other stuff, too: that it's okay to give up sometimes, that the things I've been through and the things people have said to me and the way people have treated me will not determine who I am in the end. He is my reminder, today and tomorrow and forever, that I make my own choices now.

We keep singing along to whatever song comes on until we reach Chicago, exhausted and delirious and feeling like death. Jace's parents go check in at a hotel while Jace, Mom, Luke, and I go check in at my dorm. Once I finally get my room key and all the info, we get a cart from the ones that're being handed out at the lobby.

"Okay," I say. "Mom, Luke, you guys unload everything. Jace and I will unpack upstairs. After that, you guys can come help. Is that good?"

"Sounds great," Mom says. "Go get the room opened up and whatnot."

Jace and I take the elevator to my room, which is on the sixth floor of the dorm. I have a single room, thankfully; I didn't want to deal with a roommate.

"Wow," he says. "This is nice."

"Mhmm." I walk over to the bed and sit on the mattress—which is, as expected, uncomfortable as heck. "Come here."

"Your parents will be up any second."

"It's nothing _dirty_." I part my legs so that he fits between them and look up at him, biting my lip.

He reaches down and kisses me softly. I smile and lean my head on his chest.

"Are you happy?" he asks me.

_Yes_. Yes. "Yes."

"Good." He kisses the top of my head. "Okay, we need to get ready to unpack."

I groan. "This is better. I'm tired."

"I know. Come on."

I groan as he manages to get me to stand up. My parents show up, and we all unload the cart on my bed and watch as the two of them wheel it back down for round two of gathering all of my shit. Jace and I start unpacking silently. I think we're both too tired to say anything, and I think that's fine.

By the time the second cart comes up, Jace says, "I'm gonna take off. I know you two probably want your alone time with Clary." He turns to face me. "See you later?"

I nod. "I'll walk you out," I say, which is literally just the easiest way for me to say _I want to kiss you, but not in front of Luke and my mom_. And I do kiss him, and then he's off, and now I'm with my parents. Which is kind of weird.

We finish unpacking all of my crap in five hours, and, by then, I feel as if though I might crash. Between making sure everything is in place and sending Isabelle, Simon, Maia, Seb, and Lily pictures of the progress, I am exhausted. My bed is looking mighty comfortable right now.

But Mom and Luke want to have dinner before they head back, so I head out with them. We eat at a pizza place. Well, _they _eat, anyway. I mostly pick at my food and try to figure out how goodbye is going to work while also wishing I could sleep on all of this.

Mom and Luke mostly talk about how beautiful the university is, and how nice my dorm is, and how my RA was so _nice_, and they use that word over and over again until I feel like my head is going to explode. But I let it happen. I'm not gonna be snappy and rude. I need to be patient. I'm not gonna see him for a good long while, and this is the best we've gotten along, so I'm letting it happen.

After dinner, the three of us walk back to my dorm in silence. I have one headphone in, and a Paramore song is playing as we reach my building.

"Well," my mom says. "I just want to say that I wish you the best. These four years are going to be amazing for you, Clary, and I just hope that you take advantage of them. Be careful and careless. Be ambitious. Be ruthless. And kind. And I'm just a phone call away."

For some really weird reason, I squeeze tighter when she hugs me, even though I don't reply. I just say that _I will _after she tells me to be something. She tells me she loves me, and, when we pull away, I see that she's crying.

"Bye, Luke," I say, hugging him,

"Take care, Clary. And I'm always here if you need anything. Love you, kid."

"You too. Bye, guys."

I wave at them before entering my building. I smile at everyone, all the way from the entrance of the building to my floor. Once I'm in my room, the door locked and all, I take off my shoes, walk over to my bed, and just lie down.

_Should I come over_? Jace texts me.

I love him. I really do. But I want to spend tonight by myself.

So I tell him no. I take a shower, change into my pajamas, and go back to bed. I look out the window and at the city. When I start feeling sleepy, I turn on the AC.

I'm excited. I'm not going to lie. Excited and terrified and anxious and _happy_. I am ridiculously happy. I'm independent. I got away from home. And I'm crazy in love with my best friend. I'm in a new city, going to my dream school, and the world is stretched wide in front of me, inviting me to explore every possibility it has to offer.

And I plan on taking its hand and finally living.

* * *

_**The songs in this chapter are, in order of appearance: "I Just Had Sex" by The Lonely Island and "Riptide" by Vance Joy**_

_This is going to be lengthy, but important._

_Thank you so much to my beta, **IWriteNaked**, for being with me throughout this entire story. Through all my "what do I do?" crises, through the planning, the ever-present struggle of finding a song for the chapters...thank you. But you're also an amazing friend. You've been there through some of the most important moments of my life, and you're always supportive and attentive, and I couldn't ask for a better friend. Thank you. Love you, homeboy. _

_Thank you to **DeathCabForMari** for being one of the most supportive, caring people I know. You are an amazing friend, mother, wife, and overall person. Thank you for the million essays you've read, for the advice you've given me, for being like a mom to me in many ways. Thank you for always supporting me. I love you. _

_Thanks to** spikeyhairgood** for being the big sister/asshole aunt I never had. You're always there to listen to me through my many crises, whenever I'm feeling down, whenever I'm too happy, whenever I'm mad...you're always there. I love you, WS Clary. :)) _

_Thank you to _**_LuckyasLockhart__, clarissa adele herondale, _**_and_**_ clarissadele _**_for being such homegirls all the time and listening to me rant about my problems and always being there for me and supporting me and my writing. You're all so patient and kind, and I don't know what I'd do without you. _

_To my **Musical Guest**, who I know I've been neglecting lately: I've been crazy busy, but I finally made time to listen to all of the songs I missed. Miss Jackson and Little Talks were already two of my faves, but I adored Flawless, Harlem, and New Year. Flawless reminds me a lot of a friend's current situation. I'm planning on using all of them at some point for **something**, because I really did love them. I wasn't as crazy about Recover, but it's a catchy song! Anyway, thank you so much for all of your music recs; they were incredibly helpful and always, **always **welcome and appreciated. :) _

_That being said, this story was incredibly important for me to write. It's the most personal one out of all of them, so it's been scary and exciting to share it with you guys. I know that it was a drawn-out story, and that it was frustrating in a lot of ways, but it was so important for me to get it all down right now, and I'm so glad I did. Thank you all for reading and following these characters' journeys. Thank you for making it to the end. Your support means the world to me. _

_I'm going to miss Maybe Someday (I already do!), but I'm also excited to move on to new things. My new story, **The Head and the Heart**, is up. It's a two-part story, and I'm ridiculously excited about it, so I hope you check it out! _

_Thanks again for being here throughout this journey. I love you guys. _

_xo_


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